A Splintered Soul
by The Asgardian Worm
Summary: The last thing he remembers is falling from the Bifrost. He finds himself on Midgard with an unlikely ally and all the time in the world to plan his next move. Eventual Loki/OC [Part Three is up!] Please review!
1. A Bat out of Hell

**A Splintered Soul - A Loki Fanfic by The Asgardian Worm**

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**Part One: A Bat Out of Hell**

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My instinct was to floor the pedal and skid wildly down the road with my eyes closed when the thing fell onto the hood of my old pick-up truck. It was a horrible move and I almost died. When the car finally came to a halt, just off the road, nose dipped at the slight incline into the edge of the woods, it rolled off the battered metal and fell with a loud thud to the concrete.

At first I thought I had driven too close to the game-park. I had always hated the place, but the only route to the school led right past it.

"Don't be dead, don't be dead, don't be dead," I pleaded, throwing myself into the door (it required superhuman amounts of force before it yielded).

Stumbling out onto the flattened grass and earth, I wheeled around to the front of the truck, holding my hair back and bracing myself for a bloody sight. No blood and no disjointed limbs poking out at a funny angle. In fact, it wasn't a deer or stag like I had anticipated. I breathed a sigh of relief.

_What's wrong with you?_ my mind shot at me. _There is a man sprawled out in front of your car, did it occur to you that you might have killed him? _I gasped, quickly kneeling down. _Really, Paton, where's your head at?_

I rolled my sleeves up, pushing his black hair away from his neck and pressed my fingers to the corticoid vein; _Alive_. The sigh that followed was an appropriate one. When I was thoroughly convinced that he wasn't too seriously damaged (which is more than I could say for my car), my mind suddenly became very aware of his clothing; leather and steel and a cape.

"Two months too early for Halloween, mate." I said to the alabaster face. There was no response of course. He was out cold. I began to be sick with guilt. It would do to take him to a hospital right away. _With whose money?_ Damn it all.

There was a first aid kit under the seat, but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him. He seemed the picture of health, except that he was unconscious. I bit my lip furiously. I would wait till he came to. If he was in any serious pain, I would take him to the ER myself. Surely he had insurance; else he wouldn't be running about the game-park like a lunatic. I had a tight schedule to maintain, too. It wasn't like I was leaving him unguarded where he fell, I wasn't _that_ horrid.

I awkwardly pulled him up to a sitting position and slung his arm around my shoulder.

"You'd better not be some sort of pervert," I said, trying to get him to his feet. He was like a very large rag-doll. "If you are, I will run you over. This truck still has a pretty good kick to it."

_Try being normal, sometimes_, my mind reminded me. I snorted, could this even be any more abnormal? I half-dragged, half-carried him around the truck. The back was packed with stacks of books and magazines. I had a shipment from Riverside that I was delivering to the market square in South Dutton. _No, that wouldn't be very comfortable, besides, you'd never be able to hoist him up by yourself_. True.

Instead, I reached for the door and wrenched it open. Getting the man into the passenger seat was by far the most difficult task of my morning. He flopped around helplessly, completely at me mercy, and I even managed to knock his head on the dashboard.

"I'm sorry," I scrunched up my face, hoping it wouldn't leave a mark.

When he was finally in place, I strapped the seatbelt across his insane get-up and shut the door, careful not to injure him any further. Going around to the driver's side, I pulled myself in, keyed the ignition and set off down the road at a comfortable pace, all the while scanning the edge of the game-park around me. The trees here grew high and their branches embraced each other in an emerald canopy. _What an awful use for such a beautiful place_.

The sound of a rifle rang through the quiet rows of tree trunks. _Poor partridge or deer or fox, bless its soul_.

Turning around to the stranger in my truck, I studied the still-as-death face. _Where on earth did you come from?_

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**First ever fanfic ever like really. Please go easy.**


	2. Metal and Leather

The heat of the day filtered in through the windshield as I drummed my fingers against the wheel. I was ahead of all the cars at the intersection, missing the light by a few seconds. South Dutton was extremely busy on Thursday mornings. Having left the cool hills and woods of Riverside behind, I had been in town not more than four minutes, and the blinding white facades of the buildings and blazing roads and vivid billboards was already getting to me. The light finally went green and the truck, with an exterior that belied its speed, shot forth towards the school. My first delivery was to drop off some shipments for the school library. They were mostly children's books – pop-ups and picture books, colouring books and fairy tale books. I pulled up inside the academic block and the guard surveyed me and the man in the passenger seat.

"What's with your friend?" He wanted to know.  
I glanced at the man; even unconscious, he had a certain grace, certain poise about him.  
"Oh, jet-lag," I lied and pushed open the door, going around to the back.  
"Here, let me give you a hand, missy." The guard waddled towards me.  
"I can do it, thanks," I said curtly, hoisting up a stack of books and putting them down on the steps of the library. He watched me repeat the process with his lips set tightly under his moustache. I dusted my hands, "all done."

I retrieved a clipboard and pen from the dashboard and thrust it to him, pointing out wherever needed to be signed. Once done, I returned to the wheel and pulled out of the school, directing the nose of the truck towards the market square.

My companion had not yet woken. I contemplated slamming the breaks and jolting him out of his trance. _Don't be despicable, now_. He was still out when I pulled into the alley between the backs of two rows of shops at the market square. It was a small space – two red-brick walls faced each other, stepladders leading up on either side. I waved my hand before the man's closed eyelids and snapped my fingers a few times. Nothing. I got out of the car.

The door of one of the shops was open, revealing the dusty inner room of the bookstore. It all happened very quickly – the owner came out, signed the clipboard and thanked me, while three of his employees cleared the back of the truck and then all of them disappeared into the store and the door was slammed shut. I checked the clipboard once and the back of the truck. There was a single book, tucked away between two grooves of metal. I hadn't noticed it all week; it must've gotten loose during a previous delivery. I leaned over the edge of the truck to dislodge it. It was one of those cheap pocket-books on mythology, tattered and yellowing.

I was about to toss it back when suddenly I was grabbed from behind.

I tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth and I was being dragged further down the dark alley. I felt something close around my neck, an arm, wrapped in leather and steel. The hand over my mouth pulled away and I filled my lungs with air, ready to bellow to my last breath.

"Stop making such a fuss," my assailant ordered in a voice that was both calming and threatening.  
"Please," I squirmed, "let me go! Take what you want, my wallet's in the truck!"  
"Who are you," the voice hissed menacingly.  
"What?"  
"I will not repeat myself, answer me." The grip around my throat was tightening.  
"My name is Paton McAllister," I choked, "I'm a delivery girl, I deliver the books from Riverside Harbour, I don't make a lot but the money's in the car."

Immediately I was released. In shock, I fell forwards on all fours, blinking spots away from my eyes. I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my neck and gasping for air.  
"I don't want your money," he spat.

The man I thought I'd run over was awake and he was fixing me with a gaze that greatly hampered my ability to stand.


	3. Caddy

**2**

"What the hell do you want?" I asked hoarsely, a rare strain of bravery sparked in me. My assailant watched me with narrowed eyes that glowed green even in the darkened alley. "I don't have anything but the car, you've already ruined it!"  
"Ruined it?" He snapped.  
"Yes, look what you did to the front!" I pointed wildly at the massive dent in the hood.  
"What _I_ did?" He asked incredulously.  
"Don't play dumb, you nearly bashed in my engines, you great oaf!"  
"How dare you speak to me that way!" He advanced.  
I cowered slightly and a door swung open somewhere, slamming into the brick wall.  
The owner of the bookstore stuck his head out at me, "Oy, what's all this racket, you're scaring away customers!"  
"He-" I pointing towards my assailant but when I turned accusingly, there was no one there. I gulped. _What is happening_? I turned to the store owner and apologized. "I'm having a strange day, Mr Thom! I'll be off now."  
The owner slammed the door.  
Something pushed past me and as I looked, my assailant materialized out of thin air before me, storming off towards the main road.  
"Hey!" I yelled, racing after him. He owed me a good servicing for my car. Without it I would be unemployed. "I'm not finished with you!"  
He didn't pay any attention to me; his obstinate back was retreating from the alley. He was a tall man, I noticed, and I had to run to keep up with his strides.  
"Where do you think you're going?" I shouted as he walked onto the sidewalk and then right onto the road, in the middle of traffic. I ran up and grabbed him by the arm, pulling back with all the force I had in me. He staggered backwards with me as a bus whizzed past his, missing him by perhaps a hair's breadth.  
"Unhand me!" He bellowed, causing the pedestrians to stare.  
"Are you completely mad?" I held my forehead, gawking at him. "I just saved you bloomin' life!"  
"Saved?" He snorted. "_You?_"  
"Yes, in fact all I've been doing today's saving your life!"  
I hadn't noticed it but a number of people had stopped around us on the sidewalk.  
"My head must be a bit fuzzy from the fall, but if I recall correctly, you ran into me with your truck!" The man shot back.  
"Which is now dented like it met with the underside of a wrecking ball!" I yelled.  
He looked at me curiously.  
I caught my breath, noticing the number of onlookers.  
_Do something quickly!_ I turned on my heel with a wide grin plastered to my face and addressed the small crowd. "And that ladies and gentlemen is why traffic safety is so important. The Crenshaw School of Performing Arts thanks you for watching and always remember to wear your seat-belts."  
I quickly bowed. The man beside me shot me a quizzical look. I punched his arm.  
"Bow!" I hissed.  
"I bow to no one!" He snarled.  
"Why's he in a Mortal Kombat cosplay costume?" Someone asked form the crowd. Somebody else clapped once.  
The man turned swiftly back towards the alley. I straightened up and ran after him.  
"Your customs are baffling," he remarked, heading for my truck.  
"What are you doing?" I asked, breathlessly. All this running around was giving me a head ache.  
"This is Midgard?"  
"What?"  
"Earth?"  
"Yeah, where are you from, Mars?"  
He did not appreciate humour, obviously. Pulling the door open, he sat down in the passenger seat. I walked up to the truck, peering at him from my open window. He threw me a nasty look and said, "Drive."  
"I'm not your caddy!"  
The man did not hesitate before ramming his elbow into his window. The glass shattered, falling to the ground outside. He simply brushed away the shards on his clothes and turned to me.  
"Your vehicle's already in bad shape, but I could change that for the worse in a heartbeat and then I daresay you'd be out of employment. That wouldn't bode well for you, you're already poor."  
My jaw hung open. I felt like I had been punched hard in the ribs. _Poor?_ What sort of aristocratic pig had I managed to scoop up off the road?  
"Now get in and drive or the engine's next." He threatened.  
Still reeling from the blow he had administered to my ego, I got behind the wheel and slammed my door shut. I keyed the ignition and glared at the rear view.  
"Where do you want me to go?"  
"Take me back to where you found me."


	4. Hotel for the Wayward

**3**

My brooding passenger seemed to loathe South Dutton traffic ten times more than I did. He glared menacingly at whoever was at eye level, but he would not acknowledge anything below that. When the honking got too loud, he roared in anger.  
"Can't you get these fools to end their racket?"  
I looked at him, wild-eyed, then back at the road. The signal was green. Snaking my way through traffic, I broke out onto the freeway and were bound for the edge of the game-park. It wasn't a very long ride, but the ten minutes I spent in horrified silence were agony. My mind was furiously at work, like a child with a pail and shovel at the seashore, building up every possible sort of insult to sling his way. But sandcastles tend to crumble when the waves come in.

The man slammed the door hard as he got out. I forced my way out through my door and hung back by the truck as he strode on out to the road. At first, he searched the ground, walking up and down the whole length of the road, just before it curved up ahead and sloped down to Riverside's farms. I watched him curiously. He talked kinda funny, he dressed kinda funny, hell he even smelled kinda funny – like wildflowers. He kicked a stone out of his way, visibly distressed, his forehead creased in anger. A moment later he turned his wan face to the sky, his eyes searching, but for what?

His lips pulled back in a snarl, "ODIN!"

I looked upwards half expecting something to happen. We were both disappointed.  
"ODIN, HEAR ME!" He continued.  
_Odin? The God?_

He was a tourist, maybe. That would explain a lot.

"The Bifrost," he mumbled, rubbing his temples, then came to the loud conclusion: "he can't hear me."  
"No shit, Sherlock." I rolled my eyes.  
The man threw me a look and turned away. A shadow crossed his face. For a brief second he looked worried and lost and broken.  
I most probably had broken him with my car, but if he was damaged physically he had not shown it. There was a burden in this man's eyes. I could tell. I had seen that look before, in a mirror, not too many months ago. The sincerity of his pain, though it lasted a fraction of a second, stirred a deep sympathy in me.

But the asshole had bloody choked me in an alley like a date-rapist and I wasn't about to forget. I slammed my palm against the horn, startling him. He stood dusting his clothes, and for a long moment was lost in deep thought before striding over to the truck and throwing himself into the passenger side.  
"Drive," he ordered again.  
"Now where?" I whined.  
He fixed me with a searching look, as if to ask where I lived.  
"Oh no," I folded my arms and leaned away from the wheel. "No, no! No way, Jose, or whatever your name is."  
"That was not a request, now drive."  
"You drive," I shot back stubbornly.

I did not notice the look on his face when he kicked open his door and came over to mine, wrenching it open from the outside. He grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out, kicking and shouting.  
"We don't want a repeat of the alley, now, do we?" He breathed.  
"_Gerroffme!_" I shook free of his grip. "Stop _doing _that!"  
"Which direction is it?"  
"If you think I'm about to let some strange bloke from Sweden crash at my house you're sorely mist-"  
"You will find I am not a patient person to deal with," he said, facing me with not more than a few inches between us, "currently I have the upper hand, I could break you in two if I pleased. It would do you well to concede with my demands, do you understand?"  
He drove his point home and I stopped squirming.  
"Where is your home?"  
"It's near here," I sighed. "About five minutes away."  
"Now you can drive or you can walk, your choice."

The drive was tenser, but I was glad it was over quickly. I pulled up next to the ramshackle single-story cottage built on a hill that overlooked River Harbour. I realized I had driven down with my door swinging open. _What's the point worrying about car-safety? This lunatic's going to stab you in your sleep anyway_.

I fumbled for the key under the doormat and my hand shook with the tension that was building up inside me. I kept a straight face, but what I wanted more than anything was to curl up and have a good cry. As if my life didn't suck hard enough, my new houseguest was a psychopathic Swedish tourist intent on making me his slave. I held the door open for him and we entered through the kitchen. It was all I could do to keep myself from bursting into tears (that or hurling the kitchen knives into his beautifully chiselled face).

"Welcome to Chez Paton!" I said with mock hospitality, gesturing weakly at the dishevelled sitting room, littered with food cans, papers and clothes. "Allons-y."  
He glanced at me, his mouth a perfect line. Then he muttered, "Why could I have been run over by a more prosperous human?"  
"Would've saved me the trouble."  
"It will have to do."  
I was hoping he wouldn't say that. He picked his way through the messy floor, and as I walked behind him I noticed, at close range, that he was limping and his hand would often reach for his chest, a look of discomfort on his face. I felt guilty again. Apparently I had banged him up pretty bad.  
"Are you sure you don't want to stay at the hospital instead?" I asked gingerly.  
He shook his head. "I have no Midgard currency, it would be useless. You will nurse me."  
"I will?' I gawked at him.  
"Is it customary for you to cross-question my orders every single time?"  
"Look, man, I can't be babysitting you, nothing I take care of makes it past the first week, not even the plants-" I pointed to the window sill, where a row of pots cradled blackened and withered stems. "I killed this cactus."  
He raised his eyebrows at me.  
"A _cactus_," I emphasised. "Cacti don't even need water. Things _die_ here."  
"How awful," he shook his head. "Regardless. This is my temporary settlement."  
"Why?"  
"To recuperate, of course," he snapped.  
"From what?"  
"Your brain is like a sieve – from crash landing on a moving vehicle in the middle of nowhere and being cast-" He stopped himself.  
"In a really bad movie?" I asked, gesturing at his clothes.  
"If you must know, I was cast away from my-" he hesitated, "from my home."  
_A lunatic in exile, say your prayers Paton_.  
"Who are you?" I asked bluntly.  
"I am Loki of Asgard. I am a prince. Beyond this, I do not know."


	5. Room Enough for Two

**4**

"This room is better maintained, I'll take it."  
"_Excuse me?_ No, you can't, this is where I slee-!"  
"Fetch me a drink."  
"No."  
"NOW!"  
I made strangulating gestures behind him as he surveyed my bedroom, his hands behind his back. He turned around and eyed me.  
"Are you still here?"  
I threw my hands up in despair and retreated to the small square kitchen that was separated from the sitting room by a black marble-top island. Grudgingly I snatched a glass off the shelf and thrust it under the tap, then carried it back to my room grumbling under my breath. When I returned, he was bent over my vanity, prodding at something. He picked it up curiously and his finger caught on a switch on its side. It whirred to life and I watched in horror as Loki hurled my epilator across the room, sending it shattering into the wall. It twitched in a heap of broken plastic and metal and wires and finally stopped.  
"What a vile house pet." He observed then reached for the glass. "Ah, thank you."  
He drained the glass in a single gulp and swallowed. A split second later his face contorted.  
"What on earth is this?!"  
"It's water," I stated.  
"It's foul!"  
"Did you expect me to buy mineral?"  
He frowned at me and I groaned.  
"Why am I being punished like this?" I asked woefully to the ceiling.  
"My sentiments exactly."  
"_You!_" I pointed maniacally at the delusional Swedish tourist in front of me. _Calm down, you'll give yourself an aneurysm_.

Loki seemed to be amused with my poorly concealed rage. He crossed the room, handed me the glass and shoved me out before shutting the door in my face.  
"What?" I thumped my fist on the wood. "No! You can't just- You'd better not be a panty-sniffing pervert!"  
I forced myself back to the sitting room and sat down heavily on the threadbare couch. I'd be damned if I was sleeping here. What a jerk! Who does he think he is? The minute that door opened, I would give him a piece of my mind and if he tried any funny business, I would run out hollering for Officer Hank, who lived two houses away. But the door did not open for many hours. I spent the first glaring at it and feeling incredibly foolish. As the minutes passed on, I sank lower and lower into the couch, trying to keep my eyes open. At once I shook my head violently and pulled out a crossword from the dailies. It was over two months old. I hadn't been able to pay to renew my news subscription. My plan sustained m wakefulness for about seventeen correct guesses and before I knew it I had fallen asleep.

I had no idea what time it was when I began to stir. All I knew was that I had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. When I cracked open my eyes, I found someone seated opposite me, gazing intently.

"Something is very wrong with your kitchen." Loki told.  
"What?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and forcing my body to wake and react. Then I heard the soft gurgle and splash issuing from behind me. When I tried to stand, I found water pooling around my feet. Loki was seated cross legged on the coffee table, his face pallid as he watched me skidding towards the kitchen.

I had left the faucet on. The drain had clogged again and the sink was overflowing. Could this day be any worse? _Was that a challenge?_ In a frantic attempt to turn the water off, I lost my footing and landed squarely on my bottom, splattering the walls and cabinets and myself with water.  
"Bollocks!" I growled, trying to right myself and failing miserably as my body tilted forward sending me to my knees. I had finally got the faucet off and I was pulling the cabinet open for the mop when it tumbled out, smacking me right on the forehead before clattering into the puddle.

"Really, can't you get anything right?" Loki scoffed.  
"BE QUIET!" I wailed, brandishing the sponge end of the mop at him. He shook his head disapprovingly and made an odd gesture with his hand. The kitchen was dry, not a single drop of water anywhere but my dripping hair and clothes. Loki smirked at me clutching my mop protectively.  
"One might have hoped you would make up for your insolence with some modicum of refined motor skill," he rolled his eyes. "But unsurprisingly, one is to be disappointed."  
I stared fearfully at him as he raised himself to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest. _How is this happening?_  
"What did you do?"  
"I believe it's called helping. Really, don't you people know how to be grateful?"  
"No, no, no," I stared in disbelief, "the water, where did the-? How did you-?"  
"Magic, science, whatever you want to call it," he said nonchalantly. "Don't worry your little head with it, it's beyond you."

My mind was screaming sharp warnings at me.

And then it hit me.

_Loki?_

I had heard that name before. Or seen it, or read it, maybe recently, maybe long ago. Without bothering to dry off or change, I crossed the room, throwing the mop aside when I wrenched the front door open. It was darkening outside as I raced to my truck, throwing myself over the side and feeling about for the pocket book. I held it under the streetlamp and scanned the index. _Norse Mythology, Page 49_. Flipping through the book, I stopped at a name in the middle of the yellowing page. _God of Mischief and Lies_.  
There was a woodblock image printed on the opposite page of a disgruntled looking man, shrouded in shadow, adorning a crown with two massive horns.

"I don't see the likeness, do you?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, wheeling around to find Loki had been peering over my shoulder.

"You!" Was about all I could manage at the moment.  
"Well, I for one think it's a horrid picture," he shrugged. "You look frightened."  
"F-frightened?" I felt the heat escape my ears and the spaces between my fingers. "Try livid!"  
"Whatever about?" He asked with a sly grin.  
_How dare he smile at you like that! With his stupid perfect teeth and his face! How dare he!_  
"Well! You'll be pleased to know I don't feel so guilty about almost running you over, you manipulative little-" I couldn't quite finish my sentence.  
"No, not at all."  
"I'm on to you!" I waved my finger at him then a thought struck me. I was still asleep. I had never woken up at all. It was still dawn and I hadn't been woken by the Riverside Deliveries director for duty. "I'm dreaming."  
"Why are you pinching yourself?"  
"Shh!" I said squeezing my eyes shut and then opening them. He was still standing before me, traces of his smug smile still visible on his face.  
"This is getting to be ridiculous."  
A vague memory came to me – of a bar tucked away somewhere in South Dutton, after a particularly long day of deliveries. Maybe I hadn't even managed to get to sleep. Maybe I had gotten drunk at the bar. Maybe someone spiked my drink and I was hallucinating. I clapped my hands a couple of times, wiggled my fingers and whispered, "Away with you, spectre!"  
This amused him to no end and his laughter aggravating me gravely.  
"Of all the clinically insane humans to have crash-landed on."  
_He just called you crazy, are you just going to take that lying down?  
_I found myself charging at him, bellowing at the top of my lungs. I wasn't quite certain of the plan of action. He could easily overpower me unless I somehow tickled him to death. I stopped in my tracks when he raised his palm to me.  
"Enough," he breathed. "I'm in no mood for games, I require replenishment."

Loki turned and walked back to the house, leaving me out on the drive, clutching my book of mythologies.


	6. To Serve a Royal

**5**

Having a Norse God traipsing about the house was not even the worst shit I had gotten into in my twenty-one short years. There were other more life-threatening situations – like the time my tie had gotten caught in an ATM. I decided never to dress up as Barney Stinson for a costume-party again. But to be honest, having a Norse God traipsing about the house was about the most bizarre thing to happen. I slouched back into the house to find him seated regally on my couch. He looked formidable and out of place in my untidy little home. It was almost comic, but it made me feel, well, _poor_.

_Don't let him get to you, Paton! The asshole. Who does he think he is, throwing his weight around like he owns you? _A bloomin' God, that's who. He could bloody own me if he wanted to.

I decided not to argue with my mind any more. What was one supposed to feed a Prince anyway? You didn't need a second look to tell that my humble abode had never produced anything more princely than a chocolate truffle, that too out of a delivery box. _It was a damn good truffle, too_. Agreed, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm waiting," he reminded me, without looking up. _Oh my god, does he ever shut up?_  
Loki was staring blankly at the beaten up telly in the corner of the room. I picked up the remote and switched it on and its dusty screen crackling with static. Loki look bewildered for a moment as he watched the moving figures. He turned around to me, quizzically.  
"Magic, or science," I said gruffly, "Whatever you want to call it."  
"My, aren't we full of surprises?" He jeered, leaning back.

I went to the kitchen, which was still dry. I pulled the minifridge open. There was a bottle of ketchup, some left-over Chinese take-out and a block of strawberry ice cream. I could throw them in a bowl and pretend it was a delicacy. He wouldn't know.

_Yes he would, and he'd have your head. Specifically to use your skull as a goblet for wine or some shit_. I wanted my mind to shut up with things like that. Forever. I threw my hands up helplessly. There was a single tin of soup in the cupboard and if he didn't like dehydrated vegetables he could bloody well take a hike with his ridiculous cape. And his ridiculous smile. I silently cursed the back of his head as I left the tin on the burning stove and looked for bread.

As I passed by the kitchen clock, I glanced absent-mindedly at it. Eight o'clock.

_Eight o'bloomin' clock?! _The shipment from Emery was due two hours ago!

I hadn't realized I was screaming hoarsely, holding my head and growing pale until I was shaken by the shoulders.  
"Stop!" Loki commanded irritably.  
"No!" I exhaled and darted past him to the door.  
"Oh, no, not again!"  
"The deliveries." I squealed, throwing myself into the drive and fishing for the keys from my pockets. It was a brief struggle with the door once more and I had my pedal to the gas, speeding down the silent and scenic Riverside road.

_Are you going balmy? You just left that psychopath in your house unattended!_

"You should slow down or you'll hit something else."

Loki was glaring at me from the passenger seat. I bellowed and lost control of the car – it swerved and skidded.  
"Take us back!" He said sternly.  
"No!" I yelled, backing the car up, "and don't you think of physically assaulting me again, I will bite and I'm not joking. I have unusually sharp incisors, alright?"  
Loki scrutinized my face as the car cruised up towards the Harbour.  
"You've left your home unlocked, you know."  
"THANKS FOR THE UPDATE."  
"Where are you going?"  
"You made me miss my pick-up and I'm going to lose my job because of you and if I don't have a job I'll be homeless so you'd bloody well get used to the idea of sharing a cardboard box in the rain in an alley in South Dutton!"  
Loki raised his eyebrows at me, "compelling enough argument."  
He yawned and stretched.  
"Is this going to take very long?"  
I was in no mood to answer him. I could only think of the Riverside Deliveries director, Mr Delacroix, glaring down the end of his long nose at me. I would have to tender my resignation because he didn't fire people, they mysteriously quit.  
"Stay here!" I said, ramming my shoulder into my door after I had parked on the quay. Loki did not respond; he was busy rifting through the things on the dashboard.

Mr Delacroix was in an awful mood. He spent a good ten minutes listing my flaws one by one to me.  
"I had to pay Oliver extra to deliver!" His long nose quivered in fury. "This is the last time you soil the name of this enterprise, McAllister!"  
"I'm really very sorry, sir, I was-"  
"I don't care about your excuses!" He sat down behind his desk, steepling his fingers.  
"Sir, please-"  
"If you still want to keep your job there's another delivery that needs to be in South Dutton by nine."  
I gawked at him. He hardly ever gave out second chances before deducting salaries. I jumped at the opportunity, nodding and apologizing vehemently.  
"You will not regret this, sir." I said firmly.  
"I'm pretty sure I will."

When Loki saw me race up to the car with the package, he watched me lazily until I had finished loading it into the back. It wasn't very large, but it was heavy. I couldn't tell what it was, but it was double-wrapped and wound securely with brown tape. I was breathing hard when I got back to the wheel and started the truck up.


	7. A Change of Clothes and Hearts

**By far the longest chapter. What do you think so far? My OC is a spaz, because everyone loves a spaz. Loki seem authentic enough for yous? I had a pretty bland day today, so send me some love.**

* * *

**6**

The delivery in South Dutton was somewhere near the school, I was told. I drove on, clearing the intersections with ease. The office traffic had rolled in and out between five and seven o'clock and the roads were emptying. If Loki was pleased by this, he did not show it. He simply stared out of his window, the wind toying with his raven-hair. In the pulsating light of the street that was whizzing by, he looked almost angelic. _Jerk._

"Number twenty-nine," I muttered to myself, slowing down at the turn where a large board read _Palace Street_, pointing down a long and winding row of houses. I rolled the truck in. It was four past nine. _If anyone asks, you were on daylight savings_. Yeah, that would work if I was an hour early._ Oh, right_.

As I drove further down Palace Street, the houses stood silently, few and far between. I stopped outside No. 29.

"This can't be right," I said, hearing Loki shift around in his seat so he could see past me to the eerie looking villa on the left, encased by tall yew bushes. None of the lights were on in any of the floors. The house looked abandoned. But it couldn't have been. Not only because a delivery was expected here, but under the plate on the seven-foot high iron gate, there was a small camera and intercom. I had a bad feeling about this place. But then again, I had a deranged god in the passenger seat too. What could possibly go wrong?

"Good thing I have a Norse God on my side," I said, studying the darkened façade.  
Loki snorted, "You're on your own."  
I glowered at him and went around the truck to heave the package into my arms. It felt heaviest as I stood by the gate while the camera scanned me. The intercom crackled.  
"Yes?" A husky female voice asked.  
"Um, Riverside Deliveries," I said querulously. "Delivery."  
_Ooh, smooth_. Shut up, brain.  
The gate swung forward with a wail. I turned to glance at Loki. He was enjoying my terror thoroughly. I would spit in his soup, when we got back.  
I walked up to the front door and looked around for a doorbell, but the door clicked and opened before I could act. A tall woman with a stern but beautiful face emerged from within the dark of the house. She pulled the clipboard off the top of the package, and signed it.  
"Where should I put the-" I began.  
"Carl," she said without looking up. A stocky man appeared beside her, pulling the package from me. He waddled away into the dark and the woman handed the clipboard back to me, then shut the door.

I sighed and turned around, walking back to the gate.  
"Fine, whatever, it's not like I was looking for small talk or anything." I grumbled. Truth be told, I hated small talk. But I did enjoy making eye contact. It made me feel substantial, sad as this was. There was an unnecessary amount of eye-contact waiting for me in the truck.  
"Horrifying, wasn't it?" Loki grinned.  
"Up yours!" I was most definitely spitting in his soup tonight.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
I slapped my forehead, "THE SOUP."  
He blinked at me.  
"I never took it off the stove!" I told him. "The house must've burnt down."  
Loki laughed, "Fortunately I took into account your utter lack of observation. I turned your miniscule furnace off."  
I looked at him incredulously, "Um, thanks I guess."  
"Now we're getting somewhere. But the soup's burnt; I'm not going to touch it. Not that it looked appetizing to begin with."  
"I'm going to have to agree with you there," I said quietly, scanning the roads of South Dutton as we drove by a number of shops on the main. "Hang on, I have a better idea."

I passed the deli and a bistro and a number of other little restaurants that were open late and the principle contributors to South Dutton's limited though existing night life. In Riverside everything wound down by supper and there wasn't much to do wandering about in the dark hills anyway, unless you were an astronomer or ecological researcher or poet, I suppose. It was impossible to find a place to park and I ended up halting some twenty-odd cars away from the joint I intended on going to.

I battled my way out of the door for the umpteenth time that day and beckoned Loki.  
"What are you doing, now?" He asked.  
"Just get out of the damn, truck, Loki."  
He studied my face a moment. How many people ever spoke to him that way, I wondered. The minute he stepped out onto the street he was an attraction. Even cars slowed down for a better look (once almost causing a mini traffic jam).  
Someone shouted, "Hey look, it's that theatre dude from the afternoon! Hey dude!"  
I hurried Loki down the walk, "This isn't your palace, keep up and don't knock anyone over."  
He didn't like being told what to do and deliberately resisted me when I tried pulling him along.  
Some girls across the street had pulled out their camera-phones.  
"Oh for heaven's sake." I grimaced and then a thought struck me. "Loki, come with me."  
I led him quickly down the walk and pushed open the glass door of the only costume shop in town. The white-haired man behind the counter was wearing an eye-patch and fiddling with a stuffed parrot while he listened to the game on the radio.  
"Paton!" He smiled as we entered, "Good to see you."  
"Hi, Alex, I'm meant to come in earlier with that tie replacement, but I really need the hugest favour from you. My friend here's party hopping and he needs a new outfit. I was wondering if you still had the one I borrowed."  
"Sure do," Alex whistled after studying Loki's costume. "But I'm gonna have to keep his get up till you return it. With the tie, of course. Collateral, you understand, right?"  
"Yes," I said.  
"No," Loki shook his head. "I cannot part with these."  
I turned sharply to him, "Trust me. I'll get them back for you."  
_So you're playing out the part of the dutiful servant now are you?_

It must have been my expression because Loki acceded.  
Alex went to the back and retrieved the suit. I carried it to the other end of the shop, "Come on, I'll show you the changing room."  
Loki followed quietly and I hung the suit up on the hooks, while he surveyed himself in the mirror.  
"Try it on, then," I said, feeling around for my wallet. "Should fit you just right."  
I set aside a few bills I would need later and counted out the remainder of my salary from the last month. Maybe I could pay Alex and Loki could keep his outrageous costume. _How are you going to carry that around? It's metal plating and layers of leather_. Hmm, that would be a problem.  
I turned, "Loki, I'm waiting in the fr-"  
The armour and the top half of his costume had been left on the ground and he was holding up the white collared shirt to his bare torso. I gasped, not at the divine proportion of his body, but the large welts and bruises across his pale skin. It made perfect sense of course – the sheer impact of his fall combined with his heavy garments and the force of my truck.  
"Loki, you're hurt! I told you we should've gone to the hospital!"  
"We've discussed this," he said, buttoning up the shirt.  
"But-"  
"It will heal. I'm immortal, remember?" He smirked at me.  
True enough. I went out to the front to wait, looking through the various props on display. There were witch-hats and brooms and false claws and fangs and silly masks. There was even a whole shelf full of curious looking round objects. Alex caught me looking. He pulled one off and picked at a switch on the top. It glowed blue at its core.  
"Works on suction," Alex explained. "Course you could tape it too. Look just like Iron Man. That Tony Stark really knows how to cash in on everything."  
"Stark?" I asked, vaguely recalling the name. "Billionaire guy with the suit?"  
"The very same," Alex beamed, then leaned across the table and asked me in a conspiratorial voice, "So who's the tall fella? Got yourself a boyfriend at last?"  
I flushed and shook my head, "No, he's an unhinged other-worldly being who loves to watch me suffer and I am currently running all manner of errands for him."  
"What?" Alex's smile vanished.  
"College mate," I lied.  
Loki reappeared fully dressed in a black jacket and trousers. He had kept his odd buckled boots, but it was barely noticeable.  
"Well, well, well," Alex nodded, "Looking sharp there, Mr – uh?"  
"Hansen," I said quickly, "from-" _yes, Paton? From where?_ "Svalbard."  
"Svalbard?" Both men said in unison and Alex turned quickly to Loki, with a sigh of, "you don't say?"  
Loki glanced at me then nodded, "Yes. Svalbard is too warm this time of year. I like it better here."  
"You sound like an Englishman to me, mate."  
"Raised in Riverside," Loki said casually.  
_God of Lies, indeed_.  
We left the costume shop and I added to him, "Expertly handled."  
"Not too shoddy yourself."  
I picked off stray threads from other costumes that were clinging onto his jacket, muttering "Thank god for, Alex."  
"I didn't like him so much. He reminded me of someone disagreeable."


	8. In Silence

Loki hadn't touched his food for the ten minutes we had been at the diner. I watched him nervously and sighed.  
"I know it's not a fabulous meal you're so used to, but you could at least try it."  
"I'm deciding how to eat it."  
There was a childlike quality in his ruminations. I groaned.  
"You pick it up with the two hands god gave you, yeah?"  
_Nice, no way you can retract that statement, genius.  
_Loki wrapped his long fingers around the burger and lifted it off the red plastic plate. A large cluster of onion and tomatoes fell out the other end, dragging the patty down with them.  
"I'm assuming that wasn't meant to happen."  
"Honestly can't you do anything right?" I echoed.  
Something sparked in his eye. Loki glared and me and pushed his plate away, "I can't eat this filth." He turned his face away, furious. _Boy this guy's got a bad case of man-PMS, look at those mood swings_.  
"Jeez, chill your butt," I mumbled, switching the plates around.  
He glared at the mac'n'cheese. Loki must've been very hungry to get over his ego so soon. He picked up the fork and picked through his food while I reassembled the burger and grabbed a bottle of mustard off the tray in the corner.  
"Well?" I asked after he had eaten.  
"Edible," he observed.  
"Oh come on, don't be such a stiff," I frowned. "It's not all that bad."  
"Is all earth-food so… synthetic?"  
I reflected on that no more than four seconds – "Yes."  
Loki ate in silence. He did not look very pleased, but I could see his mind was occupied with something other than the quality of 'Midgardian Cuisine', as he called it.

When the bill came, I shelled out every last penny from my wallet.

"Is it advisable to be wandering around with no money?" He asked.  
"Highly unadvisable. Thought they'd put us on kitchen duty for sure."  
"Why would they do that?"  
"Well, if you run short of cash, you have to pay them with manual labour. At least that's the rule here in town."  
"That's horrible."  
"I know, but it's not happening to us, so grab your jacket and let's go."  
Loki rolled his shirt-sleeves down and shrugged on his jacket as we exited the diner. It was much cooler outside and I pushed my hands into my pockets. I felt something coarse in the lining and picked at it with my fingernail. Pulling my hand out, I found a crushed but valuable bill of a rather high denomination.  
"Well what do you know?" I grinned, straightening out the bill on my hand. "Looks like I'll have money for gas after all."

I was in the process of slipping it into my wallet when something forced its way past me at top speed. I stumbled and fell into Loki and the wallet was ripped out of my hand.  
"Hey!" I yelled after the two hooded figures charging down the streets.  
"They seem to have robbed you."  
I turned venomously to him and hissed, "THANKS FOR THE UPDATE."  
"Oh, don't pull your hair like a lesser primate like that," Loki wrinkled his nose.  
"All my money! My identification!" I wailed. "How am I supposed to live?"  
He creased his forehead, watching me circle the ground, clutching my head.  
"Why aren't you panicking, Loki? This affects you too!"  
"Why didn't you run after them?"  
"I am this close to-" I made strangulating gestures and then closed my eyes and breathed. "Alright, Paton, calm down. Just go to police in the morning and lodge a complaint. Your check comes in a week, plus you did well on the delivery tonight. Relax. Just ration your supplies for a couple of days."  
_But Paton, you're shopping for two now.  
_"DAMN IT ALL."  
"I can't say, but I think I'm becoming accustomed to your regular outbursts."  
"Let's just go home," I sighed dejectedly. What a shit day. As if to make matters worse, the tank ran out of gas somewhere between the game-park and Riverside.

I banged my head on the steering wheel, repeating the word, "stupid" several times. I heard the car door open and shut and when I lifted my head I felt the car inching forward, rolling along the dark road at snail's pace. I twisted around and looked through the little window at the back. Loki was pushing the truck forward, his arms outstretched in front of him and his body at a slight angle to the road. I forced my door open and jumped out, going to the back.

Loki hadn't broken a sweat at all.  
I pressed my palms against the cool metal of the old truck and put my back into it. We pushed the car along to Riverside in silence.

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**Ooooh uncharacteristic Loki. Like?**


	9. Tricks Up A Sleeve

**8**

_Come on, you need to get to work, you lazy lump of lard!  
_It was too early, it was still dark and I didn't want to go anywhere.  
_Fine, I guess you'll sleep through the protestations of your very full bladder.  
_You wouldn't.  
_Try me, bitch.  
_My eyes flew open. I had fallen asleep in a heap of pillows and blankets on the floor of the sitting room. Untangling myself, I got to my feet and raced to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.  
That was foul play, I told my mind.  
_Nothing more effective.  
_I quickly washed up and stumbled out to check the time. It was about to be nine. I wasn't expected for my scheduled delivery until twelve o'clock. I had enough time to do the dishes, clean up my room and put the washing out to dry before getting ready and driving down to the Harbour. I stumbled into the kitchen, looking for something to eat. Not even a crumb in the biscuit-jar. There was a sachet of coffee however, and I set to work with the kettle and water. The kitchen was filled with a strange odour. Like charred cream. I collected the empty sachet and tossed it into the bin. There was a blackened soup tin in it.

And then it all came back. The crash, the dent, the water, the book.

I had already had a metaphysical crisis once, but I couldn't help thinking it was only a dream. I was single, with a shit job and I lived alone. My mind was bound to play a few tricks on me. I sipped my coffee and turned to the sitting room.

I scalded my tongue when I beheld the sight before me – the small space was crowded with a dozen or more men dressed in crumpled white shirts and black trousers.  
"Good morning, Paton." They all said in unison and I proceeded to choke on my hot drink.  
One of the men came up to me with an expression of annoyance and thumped me hard on the back. I hacked twice more and gasped for air. I watched the other men behind him dissolve into thin air. Loki raised his eyebrows at me as if to ask if I was alright.  
"WHAT THE HELL."  
"Not a morning person, then?"  
"Tell me I'm just tripping balls, because I just saw a whole room filled of you."  
"It seems my strength has returned to me. My magic is no longer limited."  
"Fantastic."  
_Wake up and smell the coffee, Paton. You're still sharing your low-cost home with a Norse God._

The recollection of the previous night trickled into my head. Loki had gone from being my attacker to car-trouble aid in a short span of twelve hours. Unless he had tricked me into believing it – maybe I had just pushed my own ruddy truck back home while he sat in front, taking in the view of the woods at night. That was highly likely. And it would explain the dull ache in my feet and back.

Regardless, I felt it necessary to state my shortcomings as a host.

"Loki, I'm sorry there's no breakfast for either of us."  
_There might have been if he had chased those blokes down, he has the legs of giraffe and the chest of a nuclear war head, was it too much to ask?  
_"More a problem for you than me."  
He was right. Loki was both immortal and destined to enjoy the comforts of my home while I was probably going to pass out in the middle of the delivery. Maybe I could Oliver Twist it at somebody's house. There was another pressing matter – the car was out of gas. I couldn't do my deliveries to South Dutton and beyond without a set of wheels.  
"Maybe I'll call in sick," I mumbled, "but he might just fire me."  
While I was contemplating ways out of my poor situation, the phone rang and it was about to change my luck, for the better.  
"Mr Delacroix?" I asked the huffing voice on the other end.  
"McAllister, don't bother coming in today!"  
I almost burst into tears. Had I done something wrong? Did I deliver to the wrong house? Was he firing me?  
Delacroix continued, "The waterways were cordoned off this morning, boating accident and an oil spill. Huge clean-up crew blockaded the route to the Harbour. Only the post came in this morning, so you can take a day off. But I'm cutting your pay for today."  
"Yes, sir."

I turned to my houseguest, who was seated on the couch, trying to operate the telly without much success.

"Well, I reckon we're stuck here," I said, pulling the remote from his hand and turning the TV on. "With no food and no gas and nothing to watch either."  
"So fix it."  
"Fix what?"  
"The circumstances, of course."  
"Oh, sure, let me just grab some glue and my pinking scissors and get started," I clapped my hands in mock glee.  
Loki ignored me and learnt to change channels pretty easily. He paused on MTV and watched a few minutes of some reality show.  
"Do people actually enjoy this?" He asked as a woman on TV began to shed all of her clothes in a public place and gyrate on a table.  
I snorted, "Only the worst possible kinds of people, which is like every second bloke or bimbo you meet on the street."  
"You don't like people very much."  
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner."  
Loki changed the channel to the news; a man with sort brown hair, stubble and dark glasses was answering an interview on the Sky Daily News Network. "Well, the war was one thing, but Stark Industries will revolutionize the life of the modern human and anyone contesting that ideology can direct their complaints to my behind, you know what I mean, Adam?"  
"What were you looking for out by the woods?" I asked suddenly.  
Loki was surprised by the question, but he turned the volume down to answer it. "I thought I'd dropped something when I fell."  
"What?"  
"A personal item of sentimental value. Nothing more," he skirted the issue.  
"Do you think it's still out there?"  
"If it is, I should like it back."  
"Are you going to use your magic to find it?"  
"That is the plan."  
"Is Odin really your father, then?"  
Loki turned the TV off and stood up. He walked away in a huff and slammed the door of my room.  
"Touchy subject," I frowned.  
I didn't understand why he was being a complete chav about it. Almost everyone had daddy-issues. I knew I did. If it wasn't for Gregory McAllister, I might have been halfway through my grad courses and university, instead of toiling it out at a dead end job and just about sustaining myself. Papa had always insisted I had caused my own undoing. _Destined to fail, those were the words he liked to use_. I had about as much faith in him as he had in me, so it hadn't hurt me when I left home out of choice, not without ransacking his drawers for whatever money he had around. I remembered what Loki said about being cast away. So that was the fundamental difference. He had had a place in his world once and he was then robbed of it. I never had one to begin with and letting go was just all the more easier.

But Loki was living on my turf and my terms. Sure, I was making him live like a pauper. But I thought he owed me some explanation at least. I wasn't about to look the other way on the whole 'god' issue without a fair trade, now was I?


	10. Hollowed

**9**

Loki was not thrilled with my idea of a fair trade.  
"Well look at it from my point of view!" I argued through the door, a few hours since he had stormed away. "I don't know you at all, but here you are in my house, don't you think that's just a wee bit lopsided?"  
"No."  
"Oh come on, Loki, I'm not attempting to psychoanalyse you! I'm just-just completely out of my league here. I honestly wish I knew more!"  
There was no response. _The stubborn coot_. I sighed and leaned against the door jamb.  
A moment later, the door swung open and I was granted entrance to my room.

I peered around cautiously. Everything was in order, like it hadn't been touched at all. The bed was neatly made – it hadn't been slept in recently. Did gods sleep at all? Well, he ate and he drank. It would stand to reason he functioned pretty humanly then. I didn't know really.

He was standing by the window, arms behind his back, watching the wind in the trees. I imagined he had spent his time in this room in this manner. Doing what? _Thinking?_ About his fall? I was dying to know all the reasons that led up to it, but it was necessary to curb my curiosity. He was already in a foul mood and I didn't want to anger him.

"Did you rest well, last night?" I began.  
"Yes, thank you."  
"I didn't mean to pry, it's just-"  
"No, it's perfectly reasonable. I suppose I might have locked away an unwanted guest in a block of ice."  
"Is that part of your magic then?"  
He shook his head. "It is a part of my heritage, my bloodline."  
"I don't understand."  
"The All-Father, Odin, was only a foster parent to me and a careless one at that."  
"Did you come here to find your real folks, then?"  
"I know who my true father is," there was a sharpness to his voice. "I was taken from him as an infant by Odin. My purpose is unclear; my roots have ceased to exist."  
I couldn't find the words to express my sympathy, so I remained silent, watching his back.  
"I fell from grace and from the high realm of Asgard. In falling I thought it had ended. I thought I had died. But I was transported to your realm instead."  
"How?"  
"That remains a mystery to me – perhaps a rift in space and time. One can't say with these things. There is a means between the nine realms. In Asgard we call it the Bifrost, but it was destroyed. I cannot return, nor do I wish to."  
Loki rubbed his face with his hands and then finally turned to face me. "I do not wish to speak of this anymore. But I am curious about you, Paton."  
"Me?" I asked in surprise. "It's not much of a story, trust me."  
"You live alone and without a mate, isn't that considered odd?"  
A mate? What does he think we are? Penguins?  
"Perhaps," I said slowly. "But it doesn't bother me. I make my own living and I don't need anyone."  
"And your family?"  
"There's no room for that now. I work sixteen hours a day sometimes, and I just barely make ends meet."  
"You chose this life?"  
"I suppose I did."  
"And you remain unhappy."  
_Thanks for putting it into perspective, mate. I really need the slaps in the face every now and again.  
_"You could say I'm neutral. It may not be much of a life, but it's liberating in some ways."  
"How long have you lived like this?"  
"Soon to be three years now."  
Loki folded his arms, "Haven't you ever wanted more than this? Or something different?"

I had never really given this much thought. It was my turn to go silent. Maybe this was it, the impending failure my father had always talked about, ever since I was nine. It felt like my self-fulfilling prophesy had knocked the wind right out of me. The revelation shifted the earth under my feet. Or was it something else?

The hollowness I felt inside me was not merely psychological. I felt my knees buckle and the last thing I saw was the floor rushing up to me.

**End of Part One**

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**Right, so I just got down to some spell checks and formatting issues. Sorry about that. Also, I see views have increased *secret glee* Though, in all honesty, half of those are probably just me refreshing the page like a loon. So review please? I want to know if this is decent enough before posting Part Two. Cheers, mates!**


	11. Of Fire and Ice

**This one goes out to Ivory Tears.**

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**Part Two: Of Fire and Ice**

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My vision came in painful flashes of light. _What is happening, Paton? Stand up! Stand up!_

I was just a head floating across space and the rest of me had dissolved into the universe. I was vaguely aware of two voices in my head. One was my own, fighting for consciousness. And one was Loki's. It was laced with concern. Or was it one of his little tricks again? I felt like I was caving into my own being and in that instant I knew exactly what was happening to me as fireworks lit the corners of my eyes – a sugar-low.

_Ruddy perfect timing, I'll give you that. Perfect way to cut an awkward conversation short. Just faint_. _Voilà!_ Shut up!

My body gave me a twelve second window of consciousness in which I tried to formulate the word 'sugar'. Loki had managed to deposit me on the couch. His face vanished from my line of sight. There was a sound of my kitchen being ransacked.

_You sure know how to show a prince a good time, don't you?_

I felt a sweet cold liquid being tipped into my mouth. A moment later, it brought me back, reeling and disoriented, to my dirty little living room. Loki was kneeling beside me, his mouth set at an angle.  
"Blueberries."  
"Allow me to be frank; you are quite possibly the worst hostess."  
I sat up, holding my throbbing head until I didn't feel like I was made of corrosive metal anymore. I groaned, "I wouldn't expect the immortal to sympathise. We need to get food."  
"Are you quite sure you're even capable of-" he was asking as I staggered away to the kitchen.  
"I need to get to the bank."  
"Couldn't you make a stop there between deliveries tomorrow?"  
"Tomorrow's Saturday, there are no deliveries. And then it will be Sunday and by Monday morning you'll have to take my corpse out to the garbage collector, I doubt that would be much amusement for you."  
I licked my lips and frowned.  
"What on earth did you give me? It tastes like-"  
Loki was holding a bowl of blue coloured liquid – expired Jell-O-mix and water.

I grasped my throat with both hands, "Are you trying to poison me?"  
"I just saved your life!" He said defiantly.  
"That went back like over a year ago!"  
"And yet you insist on keeping it in the house? Whose fault is that, then?"  
I began to feel weak again and held up my hand, "Alright, can we please just re-stock the fridge?"  
"We?" He sneered.  
"Yes, grab your jacket. We're walking."  
Loki shook his head, "I'm afraid not. I'm not familiar with your Midgardian procedures, and I have much on my mind, I do not wish to leave the house."  
_What a shitty excuse, you freeloader!  
_"Well I can't just-!" I began. "It's not-there's no way I-"  
I sighed and pulled my jacket off the back of the couch.

Asshole, making me do all the errands myself, when clearly I am in poor physical condition.  
_Yes, but he's worse off than you, you saw so for yourself at the costume shop.  
_Shut up, brain. He's a god. I bet her doesn't even feel pain.  
_Sure about that?  
_Yes, now get out.

I ambled along to Riverside Harbour. My legs would not carry me very far or very fast, so I headed for the tiny gas station just off the scenic road that lead away from the Harbour in the direction of the next small town. The station was a family business, run by a cousin of Officer Hank and his wife and sons. There was a department store tucked into a corner behind the large Z-shaped gas-tanks. I fished around in my pocket for my credit card. It had been sitting safely at home, almost unused, and I was thankful I hadn't been carrying it on me when I was mugged. There was a reason for this of course. I was up to my ears in debt and thought maybe if I pretended the card had disappeared, my problems would too. If I could just manage to buy a few things with it, I swore I would pay my way back into society's good books by saving my next few pay-checks. It would be hard to do it, with my houseguest, but I swore anyway.

To my greatest relief, the card cleared and I was billed for the tins of soup, bread, butter and biscuits. I walked out to the gas-man and said, "I need a refill."  
"Where's your car, darl?" He smiled with a tooth missing.  
"I'll need a can."  
I doubled back for a pack of pretzels, the void in my stomach was intensifying and if I needed to keep my face from plastering itself to the road on my way back, I needed to eat.

This wasn't the first time I was left with nothing. I had gone for four days once without food and it was agonizing. But the human spirit can be a very powerful thing. It took every ounce of energy I had to pick myself up off the ground and make a round of deliveries by foot. As luck would have it, I was given a ten-buck tip from the old lady in one of the houses and that sustained me till my pay check came in the mail. Things weren't so bad, not yet.

When I returned, Loki approved of the fact that there would be dinner, even if it was a pauper's meal. He was examining the tin of butter.  
"Everything has an expiration date." He said soberly.  
"Philosophizing, are we?"  
"The food is never stale in Asgard."  
"That's probably because you have tens of thousands of servants making sure the whipped cream's never an hour old."  
"Do you have a problem with the affluent, Paton?"  
_Yes._ "No."  
He raised his eyebrows at me.  
"I have a huge problem, alright?" I snapped, stirring the soup in a pan and checking on the toast.  
"Seems rather unreasonable of you."  
I spluttered, "Oh, so a couple of blokes waltzing around trying to claim everything as their own sounds bloody reasonable, does it?"  
"Yes."  
"That's bollocks."  
"It's just the way things are."  
"Well excuse me for leaning toward Renaissance self-fashioning!"  
"It would be absolute anarchy if we were all on the same plane. Peasants wearing lush furs, nobles drinking out of steel cups like farm animals."  
I glowered at him. _You welcomed a bloody colonizer to your home? He's practically a neo-Nazi, Paton_. "And just what are _you_ drinking out of, your highness?"  
Loki glared at the soda bottle at his elbow. "If I had a choice in the matter, this would never have happened."  
"If you had a choice, you should've stayed on your damn Asgard."  
Loki's eyebrows drew together. _Don't, Paton, he's only tricking you into feeling bad about yourself!_  
I sighed, "I'm sorry I said that."  
"And well should you be." Loki stood up, sliding off the chair at the island and returning to my room.


	12. Even Caged Birds Sing

**1**

I remember tossing and turning a long while on the floor before I finally fell asleep, silently cursing Loki and his ability to make me feel like I was an evil overlord forcing him into menial labour. I reprimanded myself _– it was exactly the reverse of that, and don't you forget it_.

When I woke on Sunday morning, I lay a long while, staring at the ceiling. It was an odd perspective of the sitting room. I began to feel uncomfortable there, like I was nothing more than a speck of dust, fallen on between the cracks of the floor. I got to my knees and stood up, looking around everything. Ah, now that's more human. The door my bedroom was still shut. I had waited a while with Loki's dinner ready on a plate, but at about midnight I had fallen asleep and if he had eaten at all, I hadn't noticed. And I decided I didn't care either.

Let him suffer, the great oaf. He's had it good all this while. Maybe his resentment for poverty would vanish as a consequence of his direct involvement. _No, don't say that_. This isn't poverty. Sure I wasn't a well-dressed and uptight professor at an uptight school, making extensive use of an expansive vocabulary. But I was a healthy, able-bodied young woman with a mind and spirit to contend with. That would always be good enough.

_But is good enough all you ever want from life?_

Loki's trickery had far-reaching effects. I would not let it get to me.

Today was the day I did house-calls. It wasn't a routine thing, but some Sundays I would make a little extra money by taking personal requests from the residents of Riverside. It wasn't a very large community, but it was a thoroughly active one. Though the phone lines were down most of the time and not everybody had a car, the inhabitants of the hills had a way of getting things done – me.

I would carry the casseroles from old lady Swindon's house over to her grandchildren on the other side of the harbour, always making it a point to sympathise with her arthritis and her cat Dory, who was blind in one eye. I did the shopping for Mary Auckland, who had had agoraphobia since she was a child – this was often the most extensive process, because she invariably had me bring her load in from the Laundromat and post her letters as well. Mr Holbrooke, an elderly man who lived next to Officer Hank, had me run to the chemist's for his prescriptions every two weeks. It took up most of my afternoon, but I wasn't complaining. I made an honest buck and the people of Riverside were agreeable enough. There was an unspoken contract between my 'clients' and me. I would show up at their door between twelve and four in the afternoon, wheel my truck around to the stores and back and retire for the evening with early dinner and a TV movie.

I glanced at the bedroom door again; things would have to play out slightly differently today.

By noon, I had showered and pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans that had been hanging on a hook in the bathroom. I knocked on my bedroom door and called for him.

"Loki? I'm heading out. I'll be back in a few hours."

Nothing.

"Do you need anything, mate?"

Silence.

"Fine, bugger off then!" I mumbled, turning to leave. It took me about fifteen minutes to locate the can of oil. I had been too exhausted when I had left it near the bushes at the door. I tipped it carefully into my tank and wiped my hands off on my jeans. I started up the truck and it went slow at first, but it rolled smoothly down to Mrs Swindon's. I pulled out a little notebook from the glove-compartment. It was where I kept track of everyone's demands. It was half-filled with scribbles in green ink. Mrs Swindon handed me a brownie in Clingfilm along with a few bills and a tray of cookies.  
"That one's for you, dear." She twinkled at me with grey eyes.  
I delivered the cookies on the way to Mr Holbrooke's, where I stood squinting at the prescription for a while before heading down to South Dutton. Traffic was worse than ever and it was nearly five when I returned. The tank would splutter out in a day or two. I pushed open the front door – nobody ever really locked things around here. People at Riverside weren't expecting anyone to be rifting through their personal effects and I had learned to do the same. I pulled my shoes off and carried them to the bathroom to scrub off the dry mud from the soles.

The bedroom door was ajar. Curiously, I crossed the floor in my socks and pushed it fully open.

Loki was seated on my bed, poring over something. There was a box in his lap and a number of papers and photographs in either hand.

"What are you doing?" I squawked, racing in and throwing my shoes aside.  
He started and looked up at me.  
I wrenched the box from his hand and slapped away the letters and photographs, carrying them to the far side of the window.  
"Who told you you could look in there?" I challenged.  
Loki rose to his feet, clenching his jaw. "I don't think you're in any position to tell me what I can and can't do."  
I was going red in the face like a tomato. The wicked wretch! How could he! So that's what he had been doing with his time. Gathering all my personal information and acting all high and mighty about revealing anything about himself.

I trembled in anger, stuffing my things back into the box.  
"You're no longer welcome in this house, Loki."  
He was taken aback, "I can see you are upset but-"  
"No," I walked out the door. "I'm not going to hear it."  
"Paton!" He said sternly, but I was heading for the kitchen. I heard him follow me. Curse him! I should have disposed of these long ago, but like a complete and utter fool, I had stowed them away under the bed, where they lay, a constant reminder of everything I had tried to detach myself from. I had pushed the box deeper and further, but it had been ripped up and opened and its contents left out for me – like a messy cadaver with its insides hanging out. You should've gotten rid of it all.

_I was reaching for the stove when Loki spoke softly behind me._

"I have tasted betrayal and it is vile."

My hand tensed over the knob.

"I was cast out by my father because I was useless to him, because I had failed to be the person that had eclipsed his eyes and heart with no effort at all. We're not so different, you and I. I carry my bitterness within me and one day I will act on it, for better or for worse. You seal yours away in a box where you think it can never hurt you. But fate has a way of undoing you, Paton. I understand this."


	13. The Exchange

**3**

I loosened my grip over the faded paper. It was crumpled beyond repair, but my skin burned where the vicious ink rubbed against it. I was blinking rapidly, abating the tears. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

"Honesty," Loki said behind me, "is not my favourite policy."  
I turned to him over my shoulder.  
"I was not cast out of Asgard," he said. "I might have been, eventually. But knowing this, I decided it would do to make a nobler exit."  
"What do you mean?"  
"The Bifrost had splintered and I was holding on to the hope that my father would see me for who I was, for the greatness I thought I embodied. But he didn't, so I let go."  
"Let go?"  
"I was falling to my death, and then the next thing I knew – well, you know the rest."  
"Why are you telling me all this?"  
"I'm sure you understand The God of Lies does not have a very firm rapport with trust, but-" he pursed his lips together, "Forgive me if I sound impudent, but you are a modest enough mortal and I feel I can trust you."  
"I'll take that as a compliment, I guess."  
"I am lost, Paton." Loki said with an expression to match. "I would like to believe I have been given a second chance and I am yet to fulfil some purpose, but I have waited days for it to dawn on me and with no known success. Success, it seems, is bent on evading me."  
I shrugged, "Crazily, I'm not a stranger to that feeling."  
"As if treading the line between life and death was not hard enough," he said, "I'm splintered in more ways than one."  
I glanced at him for an explanation, instead, Loki stood with his eyes closed for a moment. His skin looked strange and blue in the light. I wondered if he had forgotten to breath. Marks began to appear on the ridge of his forehead, his chin and along his jaw. In awe I watched as the man before me slowly turned to ice. When he opened his eyes, they were blood red. He looked more menacing than ever, but his eyes were full of remorse. For his himself and his situation.

"I was not bred of Asgardian blood. I was stolen from the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. My father knew he had reared a demon in the rough and cast me aside when he could no longer suffer the shame of a failure for a son. The God of Lies, born from lies."

"Wow," I said after a painfully long pause. "That's intense."  
Loki picked at his fingers.  
"I'm sorry if this is blasphemy or whatever, but your dad sounds like a dick."  
Loki raised his eyebrows, but whether or not he agreed with the evaluation, he remained silent. His skin was fading back to the alabaster I had known.

He rubbed his face with his hands and turned around, "That was more than I had wanted to reveal."  
That was enough for me. The stuck up, self-gratulatory Prince had a past and he had let me in. There was a reason he was so anal all the time, and the insights made it easier to understand how he worked.

I wiped my eyes quickly and pushed the box away.  
"Fair trade?" I asked.  
Loki glanced at me and nodded.

All that was missing were two pairs of naked light bulbs swinging eerily over us. Loki sat across me on the couch and I sat on the edge of the coffee table.  
"How much did you see?" I asked.  
"There are photographs of your family. Why do you keep them yet?"  
I shrugged. "I haven't given that serious thought. They're all from when I was really young, I guess I was just holding on to a piece of my life that looked easier than it is now."  
"You have a sister?" He said, picking up a very old photograph. There were two girls, dressed in matching outfits, seated together on the top of a slide.  
"Had," I corrected.  
He waited for an explanation. I wasn't sure I wanted to go there, but in light of our unspoken full-disclosure agreement –  
"She died when I was fifteen. Car accident."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Our mom fell really ill after that," I continued quickly, "and I had to survive my dad. Well, we had to survive each other. Obviously I didn't last long."  
"Your mother still writes to you?" He indicated the stack of letters.  
"I never gave them my telephone number, but I gave her my address – I knew they'd never come up here. My dad didn't want anything to do with me once he lost his precious little Olivia."  
Loki looked down at the photograph again. "What was she like?"  
"She was-" I searched for the words in the lines of my hands. "She was the best part of growing up. She was going to be a doctor, and not because there was money in it. She just really wanted to help people. Olivia was really smart too and I just fell short of hundred miles standing next to her."  
"Have you read these recently?"  
I shook my head, picking up the last letter I'd received from my mother. "This came in about four months ago. I never write back. It was just better if they thought I was – you know."  
"Do you really think so?"  
"I just needed to get out. Go underground. Sometimes you just can't take it. I know I don't have it all, but I have what I need and it's good enough for me."  
There was a long pause. I swung my legs to the other side of the table and stood up. It was past dinner time.  
"This is getting way to serious for me now. That is not how I like spending my Sundays."  
Loki crossed his leg over the other and turned to me, "You're still making dinner aren't you?"  
Normally, I might have been offended by a question like that after I had spilled my guts about myself. But I would do anything to get my mind off of those things.  
"You know, I'm going to be away to work next week and if you plan on loafing about the house that's fine with me, but you really should learn how to work the equipment here."  
"Fair enough. I'll watch." He stood up and walked over to the kitchen. "Begin."  
"Oh, no," I smirked at him, "You're helping me."  
"Outrageous," He snorted.

But Loki, to my great surprise, complied.


	14. Broken Wings

**For Tir-Na-nOg-Niamh: Thanks for your review :) New chapters soon.**

* * *

**4**

"I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with your invention." I hovered over the stew that was simmering on the stove. "Maybe I should hire you full-time." I shot him a cheeky grin.  
"Think you could afford it?" He smirked, taking the pepper down.  
"Ouch, that was low!"  
"Out of my way," he said, all business-like as he carried the pot of stew to the island to cool.

I waited for the toast to pop and went to get a plate from the high shelf. _Damn the builder who nailed the shelves so high!_ I could just about reach them, but no –

"Don't mind me saying this, but," Loki reached up for the plate I was trying desperately for, "you're a really horrible cook for a woman."  
"Yeah well you have really soft and manicured hands for a man." I shot back.  
I could feel him frowning into the back of my head. _Nice, can you be more awkward?_  
"Don't expect this to be a routine affair, though, Paton. I'm only helping because you haven't been well. Also, I need a break from your poor culinary skills."

I sat down at the island, buttering toast. Just then, it occurred to me how dull life at Riverside had been before The God of Mischief came along. Between naps and deliveries and house-calls and the occasional visit to the bar, I had grown three years older, none the richer or more enlightened. As pleasant as it was to watch Loki pattering about, occasionally using his magic when the machines got bothersome, I couldn't help but wonder if Gregory McAllister actually made sense when he ranted about the dead-end I was bound to run into.

"Penny for your thoughts," Loki sat down, pushing a bowl under my nose.  
"You know, I don't think I have a purpose either."  
"You make the deliveries."  
"But it's not enriching my life."  
It was almost as if the roles were reversed. I brooded over my stew and toast, taking a swig out of the glass Loki had placed in front of me.  
"What's this?" I stared at the dark liquid. It tasted like – "Wine?"  
"There was an old bottle of grape soda in the fridge."  
"Loki what did I say about expiration dates?"  
"Lots, but look, my strength returns and my magic with it."  
_That's right where did he get those damn vegetables for this stew?  
_As if he read my mind, he said, "Your neighbour next door had a surplus. I'm sure he won't be missing them."  
"You _stole_ them? I thought you magicked them!"  
"I can't create matter, Paton, even you know that. Let's not be ridiculous, now."  
He scoffed and snapped his fingers to the bottle of pop on the fridge. It shot across to the island like it had been launched by an invisible hand. He unscrewed the top and poured himself his drink.

_All you need now is a vase of flowers and some candlelight and you've got yourself your first_ _ever date._  
"What?" He asked when he caught me staring.  
"Just curious, what are you going to do now?"  
"Well, I'm not washing the dishes, I've done enough."  
"No, no, I mean in life. I mean, do you think you'll ever go back?"  
"To Asgard?"  
I nodded.  
"It's physically impossible, even if I wanted to."  
"Do you?"  
"I'd be happy if I never stepped foot in Asgard again."  
"What's your plan of action then?"  
"Sounds like you want to get rid of me, Paton."  
I froze. _No, don't let him leave! Your life just isn't interesting enough! _"Of course not. You haven't threatened me once in the past six hours; I'd say we're getting on rather well."  
"There is something, though," he said thoughtfully.  
"Out with it."  
"Something I might need to retrieve."  
"You really don't like letting on do you?"  
Loki looked up at me for a long moment, staring hard. I found I could no longer eat my food under the surveillance and took a gulp of wine to ease the nerves he was wracking in me.  
"Something of great value, a hypercube, but the details are not important."  
"What does it do, then?"  
I thought I saw him hesitate. "It is key to my full recovery."  
_That sounds too simple. What's so great about this cube anyway?  
_"So, where do we find it?"  
"That's the question, isn't it?"

* * *

**Well. Spoilers: The Tesseract will definitely be making a feature.**


	15. Two For Sorrow

"You'll have to come back again another time. He's down with – food poisoning."  
I watched the man lie right through his teeth. He dropped his eyes to the file of reports before him and dipped the ends of his handlebar moustache into his mug of coffee. I was no longer required in the room. I never was to begin with. I pushed back my chair, stood and walked out of the door of the small glass cubicle. The police station looked like half its force had 'food poisoning'.

I squinted against the bright daylight as I walked towards my truck. Everything was gone. My money, my identification. I rammed my fist into the side of the truck and ran my palms over my face, trying to calm my breathing. As far as anybody was concerned, I didn't exist. And if I didn't find a fast way to change that, I wouldn't.

The mythology book was still in the back of the truck, more bent and battered than before after the sudden delivery Mr Delacroix had ordered the previous night. Having dislodged itself from under the metal grooves, it swam freely across the chipping blue ridges. Absent-mindedly I picked it up and began leafing through it. There he was again, a sombre, sullen fellow in a massive horned helmet. It really was a poor likeness. There was a savagery in the black crosshatch drawing that was missing entirely from the pale and smooth contours of his face. Loki was a prince. The figure in the book was a figure and nothing more. My eyes fell across the words 'Frost Giant'. I began to read.

I made it a point to drive slowly and obediently back to the house, just in case I was hauled up for running a stop-sign. Even if I was living off half a tank of gas and walking whenever I could, I simply couldn't afford to have my car impounded. I would be better off dead. _That's a cheery thought right so early in the day_. I stopped in the middle of an uncharacteristically empty South Dutton street to allow an elderly couple to cross. They were taking their own sweet time and I allowed myself a brief moment of tire-squeaking speeding just getting away from the intersection. Truth be told, law and order seemed to be taking a brief hiatus from Dutton, that day. Everything was infuriating me. The tall buildings, the obstinately straight tar roads, even the dull looking pigeons that lined the telephone wires. And then there was the crack of a rifle every few minutes as I ambled down past the game park.

The axe sighed through the air before splitting the wood. The shoulders strained against its weight as it went up again and then came crashing down onto the scarred stump behind the house. I found the motion almost therapeutic. It was a stroke of dumb luck that I hadn't lost a finger or a toe or an entire limb in the process. I suppose I owed it to Gregory McAllister and his military-like ways that I hadn't frozen to death in winter when the heating was out.

The breeze had cooled the sweat on my brow. I wiped it away with the back of my hand and threw the axe down onto the dead earth, sitting down on the much-abused tree stump. I cast a sour glance at the tiny pile of firewood I had managed. _Pathetic little string bean_.

"How are you doing, there?"

I turned to the kitchen window, which had been wrenched open to get rid of the smell of burning toast. Loki was leaning against the sill, surveying me with his contemptible bored expression.

"Couldn't you do your little multiplication trick with these?" I asked, slightly breathless, gesturing at the eight pieces of wood. I heard him snort and then disappear into the house. A moment later he reappeared next to me and I jumped. I didn't think I'd ever get used to his magic.

"There's a large amount of dishes in the sink, did you know?" He asked plainly.

I eyed him and then returned to the house grumbling. There was of course a pile-up. I grabbed a sponge from the soap dish and set to work. _One more day, Paton_. In twenty-four hours I would have my pay check, I would buy groceries for a month. I had gotten through my fourth plate when I saw something, from the corner of my eye, whizzing toward me from the kitchen window. Throwing myself to the side, I fell to my knees as a large chunk of wood shot across the sink and landed on the kitchen floor. I was followed by many more.

"Loki!" I screeched, once the flying army of firewood seemed to have ceased movement. He was grinning at me from the back of the house, the axe lying in the dust where I had left it.  
"You're welcome!" He called.

It was satisfying to watch the fire burn in the little pebbled circle I had created in the back. Inexplicably, there were two bags of marshmallows between us. I soon found that sticks were really only for mortals. Loki watched the soft whites begin to melt in the mouth of the flames. They were suspended mid-air, over the amber tongues.  
"Now," I breathed, holding out the two ceramic plates in my hands. Loki directed the roasted marshmallows onto the plates. He sat down on the tree stump, and I on the bare ground.  
"So who'd you steal these from, then?"  
"Your vocabulary is wholly unflattering, Paton."  
"Let's hear it. Was it the farmer's kid?"  
"As a matter of fact, these weren't stolen. Simply borrowed. And with the aid of the little chap. What was his name? Ah, Samuel."  
"Self-explanatory, as always," I sighed.  
"While you were busy sleeping, I took the liberty of taking a stroll."  
I choked on a hot piece of marshmallow, cupping my hand over my mouth and blinking away tears, "What the bloody hell?"  
"You should've let it cool."  
"_No_! I mean, why'd you go on out without me?"  
"I wasn't aware I needed my nanny's permission."  
"Hilarious," I narrowed my eyes. "But you're not a Midgardian, any amount of things could go wrong with a god waltzing about the street."  
"As if it already hasn't?"  
"What happened with the farmer's boy?"  
"Well, he found me by the orchard and thought I was a vagrant. Can you believe it? I might have turned him into a toad if he hadn't offered to lend me food and clothing."  
"Clothing?" My voice rose at the end slightly. Well it was hardly my fault I couldn't be dressing him in fine linens, I had myself to worry about.  
"Yes. He said they were his uncle's and they wouldn't be missed."

I watched Loki's face a long while as he watched the fire crackling happily in its little Palaeolithic hearth. The ochre glow warmed his eyes considerably.  
_Frost Giant?  
_"What?"  
I blinked rapidly as he turned to me, "hm?"  
"What did you just say?"  
I picked at a spot on my plate, "I-uh, nothing."  
"It's not as nice as you think it is," he said darkly, flicking a handful of marshmallows into the fire and watching them roast.  
"I'm sorry, what's not as nice as I think it is?"  
"Frost Giants."  
_Are they all heartless wretches like you?  
_Loki scowled at me, "In Asgard I'd have had you imprisoned for less."  
I threw my hands in the air, "Well excuse me for bloody sitting."  
"My power grows stronger and your thoughts aren't very well guarded."  
I froze. _Thoughts? THOUGHTS? You can hear all of this rubbish?_  
"These aren't cheap parlour tricks for your amusement, Paton."  
_Shut up, mind. Shut up, mind. Shut up, mind.  
_Loki smiled slightly, shaking his head.  
"But Jötunheim must be-"  
"It isn't, it's a barren and frigid wasteland full of vermin."  
I swallowed, "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, but aren't you-"  
"No," he snapped, flinging his plate to the ground. It splintered into pieces, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The marshmallows that had been roasting fell into the charred wood and began blackening. Loki sighed, rubbing his temple with his long fingers.  
_This isn't dinner. You should get dinner. That'll do_. Decent plan of action, alright, let's get a proper dinner.  
"Yes," he breathed.  
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" I began. "I was just reading that book and I-"  
Loki looked up at me, his eyes like two pools on the surface of which danced the shadows of a wildfire.  
"I don't know what it's like," I admitted. "Any of it. I probably never will know. Everything is just – all of a sudden you're here with obvious emotional baggage and you can be a complete – it's not like I don't want to help, I just don't know how."  
"Paton, I'm sure you're well-meaning, but that was completely incoherent."  
"You're just so out of the ordinary to me and I can't help being curious."  
"You're rambling."  
"I know."  
"Maybe you should sit down."  
"No, I should find us some dinner."  
"Taken care of."  
I stood watching the man before me, glaring into the firewood. A blessing, a curse, it's all the same in the end, isn't it?

* * *

**Sorry I took so bloody long to update. Thank you so much for reviewing! Please tell me what you thought about this chapter! Love, S**


	16. Burned in Memory and Frozen in Time

I raised my hand to my eyes from the glare of the sun. It was midday and the air was hot and heavy but I felt cool metal cradling me. Propping myself up on my elbow, I found myself on a park bench. Where the hell was I? I swung my legs onto the pavement. This didn't look like any part of South Dutton I had been to recently, but it was vaguely familiar. I stretched and gathered my hair to one side. I had fallen asleep at a bus stop. _This must be it. This must be rock bottom_. I had been evicted and here, I was stranded.

But Loki? Where had he gotten to? _Don't be daft, Paton. You're poor, homeless and a terrible cook. He must've found someone better to live with_. It was probably true.

I was about to walk into the road when a car horn startled me. I leapt back as a sleek Ford Mondeo pulled up. The window rolled down and a girl with honey-blonde hair peered up at me from the wheel.  
"You alright?" She asked.  
My heart lurched at the hazel eyes searched me, the pouty rose-coloured lips set themselves in a slant and the O-letter pendant that hung around the swan-like neck.  
"You alright?" She repeated.  
I coughed, "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry."  
"You look a little lost. Can I give you a lift?"  
I found myself nodding, just wanting to crawl into the passenger seat, so I could stare at the side of her face.  
"Hop in!" She beamed, unlocking the door on the other side. I ran over, pulling it open and sitting down. "You're a keen hitchhiker, aren't you? Didn't your mother ever tell you not to take rides from strangers?"  
"Didn't yours tell you not to give them rides?"  
She raised her eyebrows at me and I felt my face flush. Then she burst out laughing, a laugh like tinkling glass. "Touché!"  
She rolled up her window and turned the radio down. It was at Channel 7, for the news.  
"So where are you headed?" She asked me.  
"The train station," I answered on impulse.  
"Without any baggage?"  
I looked at my feet.  
"My mother warned me about drifters like you," she said genially.  
"Oh, no, I'm picking someone up."  
"Really, now?"  
"Yes, my cousin from Svalbard."  
She looked visibly impressed, "Interesting. My ex-boyfriend was from Svalbard."  
"I know."  
"What?"  
"I mean, I know a lot of people from there."  
"Train station's a little while from my house, I could drop you, but there are some things I have to take care of first," she gestured at the backseat.  
There was a bouquet and two boxes of chocolates.  
"My parents' anniversary," she explained. "I'll only be a few minutes, is that alright?"  
Anything was alright, as long as I had a few more moments of just watching her, and maybe, if she let me, just touching her cheek one more time.  
"The name's Olivia, by the way."  
"Paton," I said, regretting it immediately.  
"You don't say? I've got a little sister called Paton."  
"H-how old is she?"  
"Brat's almost sixteen by now, I think."  
I laughed, looking out the window. The streets were coming back to me now. This is where we grew up. Where we lived for ten years.  
"She hates when I get her age wrong, you know. Got any sisters?"  
"Just one."  
We drove past the retired General Kent's house with its sharp edges and cream coloured walls. We drove past Mrs Amundsen's, where the garden was in full bloom and she was at work at her tulips. The young Englishman who was having afternoon tea in his yard. The twins who played basketball night and day. Mr Paulson, who was potty-training his Doberman puppy. And then the finely trimmed hedges of the last house on the street. There was a jungle-gym in the back, you could see it poking out from the side of the house. The windows had all just been painted blue, because that made them cheerier. There was a fresh pie on the kitchen window sill.  
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" Olivia asked me, pulling into the drive.  
I saw the silhouette of a man at the living room couch-set, reading the morning paper. I hesitated, "I don't want to impose."  
"It's no trouble at all. Mom bakes incessantly, just in case we have visitors. Come on!"  
I got out of the car and my legs felt like they were made of lead. I followed Olivia, who was dressed in her favourite summer frock, up the porch and into the hallway, which was hung with portraits she had made in charcoal. I waited by the stairs, terrified at the familiarity of things, and heard voices from the living room.  
"Happy Anniversary, you two!"  
"Oh, sweetie, you shouldn't have."  
"Look at that, May, buying us presents with her own paycheck. You do us proud, baby girl."  
I was distracted from the niceties by someone coming down the stairs. The young girl walked silently past me and into the living room.  
"Mom, Dad, I made you this."  
"What is it, Paton?"  
"It's a carving, of us all. I made it with dough."  
"Oh honey, no, now the ants will get into it."  
"Paton, I've told you not to go messing around the stores, haven't I?"  
I inched closer, even though I knew how all this would end.  
"Oh, Mom," I heard Olivia say. "I can't stay long; I have to drop a friend to the station, so I'll see you for dinner, alright?"  
I was breaking into a sweat, I felt like I was melting into the walls. I was. I had disappeared, moving freely through the wood and wires and brick and pipes. I was the eyes and ears of the house. I was standing in my room, by the window. A door slammed behind me. 15-year-old Paton had thrown herself onto the bed and was angrily scribbling into a journal. I stayed by the window, watching Olivia, and the stranger she had given a ride to, get back into the car. It had just fully backed up into the street when I noticed the moving van at the end of the street. The front wheel was punctured and it was swerving out of control as it took a sharp turn. I shut my eyes as the sickening crunch of metal filled my head and my body and echoed through my entire universe.

My eyes flew open, my eyelashes heavy with the tears that were streaking my face. I was at Riverside. This was here and now. I wiped my eyes and kicked off the blankets. When I sat myself up, I notice Loki sitting on the edge of the coffee-table that I had moved to the wall the previous night. He wore a grim expression as he continued to study me. I felt weak and vulnerable and I just wanted to curl up and cry, but there he was, seated in front of me, watching me like a hawk.  
"What do you want?" I snapped at him.  
"Your boss called just now. He said he wants to see you in person."


	17. A Rage in The Woods

I had scrambled in and out of the bathroom, still buttoning up my jeans as I raced into the driveway, with a hairbrush dangling at my shoulder. There was a low growl from my gut as I wrestled with that bloody door. I was tucking my shirt in and combing my hair back when Loki materialized in the passenger seat.  
"Yes, come along, why don't you. Watching people get fired is a tonne of fun," I scowled.  
"How can you be so certain?"  
"You're right. Maybe I should ask you to use your magic and look into the future!"  
"Don't be ridiculous," he snorted.  
I slammed my foot into the gas pedal and the truck trundled out onto the narrow but ever-empty Riverside road.  
"This is all rather prompt, isn't it?"  
"Well of course, if I'm getting fired, I'd rather be done with it as soon as possible."  
"He said he wanted to see you-" He stretched out the syllables.  
"Yes I know-"  
"-this evening."  
"-what?"  
I slammed the breaks, causing my unruly hair to jump forward and mask me. Loki's hand had shot out to steady himself but it had smashed right through the dashboard. He pulled his arm away, slightly startled.  
"Well, would you look at that."  
"Will you please stop bloody destroying the few things I own?"  
"Temper, temper."  
"What the deuce did you have me run out of my house at-" I looked at the clock on the dash, "-seven in the bloody morning?"  
"In my defence, I tried to warn you, but you were yelling at the faucets in the bathroom."  
Something was welling up inside me. Something large and red and ugly and loud. I kicked open my door, leapt onto the quiet road and walked a long distance before I was far, far away from the car. Then in the silence of the surrounding wood and blue sky, I emptied my lungs out into the air. Loki watched me curiously from the car as I stomped the ground, snapped a small branch in two over my knee and proceeded to kick at the trunk of a large tree. This wasn't enough. I found a rock at the edge of the road and attempted to hurl it across the forest floor. After some struggling I managed to get it over my head, but the sheer weight of it sent me tumbling backward, landing squarely on my bottom. The rock rolled away, making a strange mocking sound as it went.

"I hate you all!" I declared to the stones scattered by the road.

Loki stepped out of the car quietly, his hands behind his back as he strolled up to where I was crushing dry leaves in my palms.

"This is an unusual outburst, even for you, Paton." He observed.  
He's right you know.  
"I have nothing left," I wailed. There was a sudden tightness in my chest. I thought I was having a heart attack.  
"Paton, really, try to calm down," Loki said as I staggered away into the woods.  
"No," I yelled back. "I'm just going to live in the trees now. No job, no rent, no crazy Norse gods to bother me with the cleaning and the cooking, no more nightmares, no Olivia, or mom or Gregory McAllister. No taxes and errands. No driving around for twelve hours a day. Just sleep. Lots of sleep until my body finally gives out."  
"Can you even climb a tree, Paton?"  
I ignored him and continued to walk until something snagged around my shoe and sent me falling face-first into the leaf-strewn ground. I spat dirt and twigs, swearing at what felt like a fallen branch. I felt like snapping another, so I felt around and wrapped my fingers around it.

Instead of the gnarled branch I expected to emerge from the blanket of leaves, I found myself holding a most curious object. A staff? A scythe? I couldn't say. But when it lit up blue at the top, I bet Loki could tell exactly what it was.


	18. Pursuit

"Impossible," he breathed, his eyes trailing along the body of the sceptre in my hands. I stood carefully, brushing away the dry leaves and dirt from it. I had never seen anything like it before. It was heavy in my hands, but moved as swiftly and lightly as a feather in Loki's. A smile broke upon his face, the blue glow on his skin.

"So that's yours then?" I asked.  
"No!" He shook his head, wide-eyed. "But isn't Midgardian-make, that's for sure."  
"Please don't tell me there are other gods scurrying about Riverside now."  
He frowned, "Not gods."  
"Frost Giants?" I squeaked.  
He threw me a rather foul look and continued weighing the staff in his hands. "This craftsmanship is alien to me, but it emits remarkable energy. It feels almost like-"  
But he didn't complete his thought. Loki held it firmly in his right hand and gestured for me to move.  
"Here, watch this," he said as I stood behind him.  
He pierced the air with the curved blade and the blue core at the end seemed to sing sharply a moment before turning amber as a white hot beam shot out of it. In the distance an oak caught fire and was reduced to nothingness within seconds.

Loki and I stood frozen to the ground we stood upon, unable to look away from the charred circle where a grand tree had once taken root and risen, over decades, towards the sky. Now it was gone.

I gasped awkwardly, realizing I had been holding my breath.  
A strange sort of laugh escaped his lips as he studied the extent of the damage.  
"What did you have to do that for?" I snapped, shoving his arm.  
"Leave off, I was testing it!" He retorted, shoving me back.  
"You don't know what that thing is! It could be dangerous! It _is _dangerous!"  
Loki ignored me, running his fingers along the curved blade of the sceptre.  
"Put that away, Loki, it's not even yours," I said crossly, reaching for it, but even before I had taken a step forward, he had vanished into thin air, only to reappear some yards behind me.  
"Stop doing that!" I bellowed.  
"You have no idea the kind of power this contains," he said gleefully. "I haven't felt so – so alive in the longest time."  
"Fine, keep your bloody magic stick," I turned to the road. "It wouldn't fit in the truck anyway."  
"I don't need the truck, Paton."  
"What?"  
Loki beamed at me, bowed low and then disappeared.

"This is all very amusing to you isn't it?" I called out to the empty forest. "Suit yourself. I'm going back for a nap."  
I turned to walk to the truck, half expecting to see his arrogant silhouette against the dusty tinted windshield. But the truck was empty too. And the road. And the clearing behind me when I turned to look.  
"Loki?" I paused, casting a glance around myself.  
I was alone again.

The tank gave out with a sudden splutter just as I had hit South Dutton office traffic. The sun was slowly sinking in the horizon to the din of the short and long honks that blared behind me. I held up my hands several times, blinking at the angry headlights that shone in my face. Then I returned to heaving my body into the back of the truck. Now was when I could bloody use a god in my life. The truck moved slowly up the side of the road, angry motorists stopping to mumbled nasty things to me and then speeding off before I could engage them. My knees were weakening with the effort and incidentally, I decided to stop right outside of the little bar, tucked between the Laundromat and the comic book store.

I locked up and pushed my way into the saloon-style bar. Cleaving my way through the smoke, I approached the bartender.

"Paton!" he tipped his straw hat at me, "haven't seen you around in a long time."  
"You say that like it's a bad thing," I scowled, finally remembering why I couldn't stand this place unless I was completely hammered. It smelled like sad old men. On some of my worst days, I smelled like a sad old man.  
"Just saying we missed you around here," he winked.  
"I need to make a phone call. My truck broke down outside."  
"Machine only uses quarters," he reminded me.  
"Come on, Hank, you've known me forever. Can't I just use your cell-phone?"  
"Cellphone?" He blinked. "I never owned a cellphone in my life!"  
Just then something vibrated on the counter. Hank turned a shade redder and picked it up, "Molly, I'm at work, I told you I'd pick up the cakes on my way back."  
I grimaced at the bartender.  
"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, hun. I gotta go now, customers."  
"You were saying?" I smirked as he hung up.  
Hank dejectedly handed over his phone and I punched in the number of the mechanic. There was a ten-second silence before the cold mechanical voice said, "the number you are trying is busy, please try again later."  
I hit redial, leaning against the large glass window, staring out into the busy South Dutton by-lanes. If you couldn't hear the racket, it was almost scenic. Like a photograph set to a Jazz piano soundtrack. And then, I saw a pair of young boys in hoodies, coming down the street, cigaretted dangling from the corners of their mouth.

"Hello, Olly's Garage, what can I do you for?"  
I thrust the phone back at Hank and launched myself out of the smoky bar into the street.  
The two boys were ambling past the Laundromat and turning a corner.  
"Hey!" I yelled, but they hadn't heard me.  
Shoving past the pedestrians on the sidewalk, I ran down to the corner, spotting them a few yards away from me. _Pursue_, my mind barked at me. _Pursue and kill_.


	19. A Joker and The Thieves in The Night

A wrong turn at the deli cost me precious minutes and I felt my determination dying away as I tore down the sidewalks, ignoring the odd looks people were branding the side of my face with. It took me a while before I had tracked the two boys down, but there they were, making their way across an intersection, deep in conversation and laughing raucously.

I afforded the opportunity to listen in on the pair of pick-pockets as they paused for a smoke outside the wrought-iron fence of a park that was just a few feet above road-level. Hanging back behind a bus stop bench, I pulled the collar of my shirt up and looked the other way, so as not to draw attention to myself. From where I was standing, I could hear every word.

"So then I tells her she's got to split if she don't like me income-methods, I mean, seriously, at least one of us even has an income. I don't fancy she like the idea of starving in a ramshackle South Dutton flat," the stocky one was saying.  
"Give it a rest, mate. You ought to give Angie the boot, she's bleedin' you dry, you blind fool," the leaner one with the beanie rasped.  
"Bleedin' me dry? What do you take me for? I kept aside a decent share for me-self, she can't get her grubby paws on it. And I still got all that dough and them IDs from that bimbo on the sidewalk last week. Angie's not getting a single penny outta that."  
"Aye, you still owe me half that money, Donny."  
"Shove off, I made the grabs!"

From the corner of my eye, I could see them stamping out the amber life from their cigarette butts, pushing their hands into their pockets and turning down a narrow lane.

_They're headed to Frostborough_, my mind hissed, _cut them off at the library_.

I ran across the road blindly, narrowly missing being hit by a station wagon, and hit the pavement on the other side, ploughing my feet into the concrete. Frostborough was a little neighbourhood to the east of the town. It was full of seedy sorts and I had specifically asked Mr Delacroix not to send me on deliveries there after being felt up by a piggy-eyed man in a felt hat. Twice. In a single day. I ran past the library and shook off the cold feeling settling into my bones. It was near nightfall, but that wasn't the cause. I saw the pair of them turning into another lane, above which a dented old sign read: "Fr s bor ugh."

The stocky one was thumbing through some notes in a faux-leather wallet. _My wallet_. He stuffed it into a messenger bag that hung at his hip. It was now or never. I tried to recall what the gym teacher had said about using the elbow for self defense.

In my mind the plan was clear as crystal: I would charge them screaming at the top of my lungs, hoping to startle them. The element of surprise was well at my disposal at this point. Before they could react, I would begin hacking at their necks to strike a nerve that would render them paralyzed. If that didn't work, a quick kick to the crotch certainly would. Then I would claim the bag and my belongings and make my way to the bus, catch the 759 to the quay and snuggle down for an early dinner. There was the matter of my broken down truck, but that could be fixed in a jiffy once I had my wallet. I braced myself, leveling my breathing and widening my stance. A quick run-up. And I'd be sure to use my elbow first, straight to the rib, like my gym teacher had said once. I was just about to break into a run.

"Excuse me, I believe you have something of mine."  
The two pick-pockets turned around in search of the voice that addressed them. I turned around too.  
Materializing out of thin air just before me was a dark and menacing figure. There was a sharp singing sound and then a white hot beam shot forth, enveloping the two surprised looking boys. In a split second they were gone, vapourised. Nothing was left but a dark sooty mark under the sign that read "Fr s bor ugh."

I felt my knees cave in from the sheer shock of it all.  
"Sitting around all day? How absolutely characteristic of you."  
I turned to the man with derision in his voice.  
"Had fun incinerating things, did you, Loki?"  
"More than you can imagine," he answered with a playful glint in his eyes, extending his hand to me.  
I glowered up at him, but took his hand and allowed myself to be hoisted to my feet.  
"You're awfully clammy, Paton," he said grimly, still wielding his new toy.  
"What can I say, strange and lethal weapons of destruction make me nervous in a way you can't imagine."  
"Come now, you should be thanking me."  
I studied his face. He had been gone no longer than a few hours, but something had changed in him. Something about his eyes was different; their depth had been replaced by a sort of hardness. I dusted my palms and nodded, "Of course. Thank you."  
"That's better."  
"Thank you for destroying my wallet and my IDs and rendering me non-existent."  
Loki rolled his eyes and fished something out from inside his coat and tossed it at me.  
"My wallet!" I gasped, examining it. All the bills and cards and coupons were exactly where I had left them - including my exceptionally ugly driver's license photograph.  
"When will you ever learn to put your faith in the God of Lies, Paton?" He smirked.  
"Haha, very punny."  
"Come along, no time to waste."  
"Wha-" I watched him whisk away down the pavement. The sceptre in his hand had shrunk to nearly a sixth of its size and fit comfortably in his hand - he could easily conceal it in his sleeve if he chose.  
"Hurry up, I'm starving," he called over his shoulder. "You can put that money-pouch of yours to good use."  
I stared at his retreating back for a long moment. I resented it. How he could just sweep in and out of my life without so much as a blink of concern. He was making his way rather quickly, and I had to run after him to keep up. How I resented it. _Don't be ridiculous_, my mind sneered, _you know you're glad to just have him back, even for a day_.

* * *

**_A/N: Hello! Sorry! Forgive me? I meant to update. But I was going through some things and I'm in a good place now, so I can write (even it's it's 4am and my parents are going to come barelling in with light sabers and buckets of icy water and punish me till I turn 25). I know, wth kind of chapter was this, it's so irrelevant to the main plot. I know. I'm sorry. But it's coming soon, and the tesseract is closer than you think, in fact it's already been in close proximity of both Paton and Loki. Hahaha, have fun trying to decide what I'm talking about. Please PM me if you have feedback? Or just review, that's best :) Cheers all and a happy 2013 to you._**


	20. Loki's Sceptre

_**A/N: Painfully long chapter coming up now, took me two nights, this is me making up for the lack of updates. Before I begin with the story, just want to say thanks to those of you who reviewed :) I appreciate it. I'm glad you like the OC, and my portrayal of Loki. I think there's no better explanation of Loki's psychology than the many things Tom Hiddleston has to say about him, so that's my source. Read on!**_

* * *

Don't believe anything anyone tells you. The second time you take a Norse god out to dinner is almost as bad as the first.

"This is madness!" Loki declared, throwing his chopsticks down.  
"You picked this place!" I snarled, almost choking on my bean-curd salad.  
"Because you can't afford any other!"  
"Starve, then!"  
"How dare you! I asked to be fed, not to be tested mentally and physically!"  
"What-" I demanded acidly, "is so challenging about using two pieces of wood to pick up a dumpling? The Asians have been doing it for centuries!"  
I demonstrated, skilfully lifting off a dumpling from his plate and biting into it, "Any idiot could do it!"  
"Oh," Loki narrowed his eyes at me, "I know you mean to insult me, Paton, but the only idiot I see here is-"  
Just then a waiter in a red head-scarf and black apron ambled towards us with an apologetic expression. He bowed his head to me and whispered, "Madam, is there a problem?"  
I shook my head, "No, we're fine, thank you."  
"I'm afraid I have to ask you to keep it down, madam, you're scaring the other customers," the waiter winced.  
"I am not going to sit around and be told what to do by a servant-boy," Loki muttered.  
"Ignore him, he's a tourist from Sweden."  
"_Svalbard is in Norway_."  
"If you love it so much why don't you just marry it?" I growled.  
The waiter bit his lip, "Madam, I don't want to intrude on your matters with your partner but I-"  
"Partner?" Loki and I snarled in unison, putting the waiter in a very uncomfortable position.  
"She is not my partner," Loki folded his arms.  
"Clearly, I would prefer someone who could maneuver a bloody pair of chopsticks," I rolled my eyes.

I have to hand it to the waiter, he was pretty good at thinking on his feet - he reached over to the next table that was empty, picked up a roll of silverware and placed it at Loki's elbow. Then with a quick bow he said, "Sir, might I suggest using a fork and knife, then?"  
Loki surveyed him a moment and then began to work on his dumplings like a well-bread Englishman on a Burmese expedition. The Waiter bowed his way out and returned to the kitchen. The several pairs of watching eyes returned to their respective dinner guests and our relative privacy was returned to us in the corner of the dimly-lit restaurant.  
"You should tip him generously, Paton, he's got a better head on his shoulder than yours."  
I squished a helpless mushroom with the side of my chopstick. _What a god-awful patriarch this one can be sometimes. And a stubborn mule too_. I decided to make a truce before the bitterness coagulated between us. I had been on edge ever since my haughty house guest had become wielder of some sort of magical weapon that I didn't want to be at the wrong end of.

"I'm sorry I yelled Loki," I offered. "I suppose the stress of the past few days has been getting to me and I was wrong to take it out on you."  
Loki's eyes flickered up at me as he was sawing his way through his dumplings. There was something unreadable in his expression and it terrified me. I thought I had come to know every line and every twitch of his porcelain face. He was suddenly as strange to me now as he was lying sprawled on the road that ran by the game-reserve.

I soldiered on with my apology: "I can't boast of an easy life or lifestyle, but I can appreciate just how difficult it is for you to be stranded here, with customs you don't understand. We're really in the same boat, you know, and I would much rather keep you as a friend than a foe."

Loki chewed silently for a moment and then cleared his throat. "Well, Paton, that was eloquent. I'll give you that."  
"Is that all you have to say to me?"  
"It doesn't do to discuss these things here, but I will agree with you - I would have you as an ally."  
For a brief second, I could see the abyss in his eyes. As odd as it sounds to say it, there was some comfort in that - there was a void in him that was filled paradoxically with humanity. He blinked and looked away and it was gone. I drained my glass of water and called for the bill. Loki was trying to replace the shattered and vulnerable part of his soul with unfeeling nothingness. I decided I wasn't going to let him.

* * *

Someone had pushed the truck into the vacant lot behind the laundromat. It was overrun with weeds and the were bend backwards where the obstinate metal body of the vehicle had rolled in. It was probably Hank who'd done it. The bar was closed, like most other places, when I got to it. The truck was out of gas and there wasn't a station this side of town. I sighed and crossed my arms, wondering if a certain god would help me airlift it out of the lot and down to Riverside. Or at least onto the expressway. I'd pushed it down to Riverside if I had to.

"It's in awful condition," Loki observed. "Why don't you just sell it for spares?"  
"How would I make a living? Delivering to South Dutton by foot? Maybe you could mate, but we mortals have out limitations."  
I kicked the bumper and it came right off, sending a throbbing pain up my toe into my knee.  
"Fantastic," I whimpered. "I wish I could get rid of this old thing."  
"Would you like some help?" Loki beamed, spinning the sceptre around in his hand.  
"No!" I warned. "Isn't there something else you can blow up?"  
Loki was too busy examining the sceptre to answer. He was deep in thought while I was trying to unlock the door on the passenger side to get to the glove compartment.  
"You know it has an extremely remarkable energy core, this weapon."  
"That's great, Loki."  
"You don't understand, this thing is so powerful it could wipe out half this town."  
I cocked my head up and feigned delight, "Marvelous, we shall have our own little Hiroshima right here in South Dutton!"  
"Stand aside," Loki commanded, striding towards the hood of the truck.  
"What are you doing?" I froze in panic.  
He threw open the hood and peered into the engines, his eyes darting over the grooves and nooks and wires and pipes.  
"Loki?" I asked, stepping backwards. "I think you've done enough to this truck in a single week."  
"Quiet."  
I watched him prodding around with the sceptre, a strange blue glow dancing on his face. The glow became stronger and sharper and I could hear the singing as I was blinded by white light. It all withdrew very quickly and I was left blinking spots from my vision.  
"Come, look."  
I obeyed the monosyllabic orders, sauntering over to his side as he stared down into the engines. A strange blue glow continued to shimmer against the contours of his face and the ridges of the metal hood alike. I peered into the depths under the hood and found the source of the light. Like the blue core of the sceptre, but in a much smaller measure, energy was pulsing through a small metal sphere among the pipes and bolts.  
"You're never going to need a gas-station again," Loki winked, the sceptre shrinking to the size of a ruler in his palms. He pulled open the passenger door and sat down, gesturing for me to follow.

* * *

The truck went faster than ever. I felt the breeze whipping my hair around me as we shot down the dark road to Riverside._ Exhileration_. I could feel the blood course through my veins. It was a heady mix of joy, fear and relief. I eased the truck into the drive and kicked open the door.

"Home sweet home," I said, throwing my arms out at the sight of my permanent-temporary-living-settlement.  
"You seem rather happy," Loki observed.  
"All thanks to you," I smirked. "Who knew gods were so god at tricking out cars?"  
Loki only smiled to himself as we walked up to the porch. "It's a cold night," he observed. "How about a fire?"

There was a generous amount of firewood piled up under the awning outside the kitchen window. I held a stack of old bills and receipts over an old zippo and watched with glee as they caught fire. I used the old reminders of my poverty as a catalyst to start a fire in the back. The sky was cold and clear and silent and you could hear the soft splashes of the river on the banks in the distance. Loki was watching the sky again, a shadow on his face where there should have been starlight. My lips had barely parted when he said:

"I'll spare you the trouble, Paton. I know what you were going to ask me and the answer is no."  
"What if they're looking for you?"  
"These are matters far beyond the comprehension of a Midgardian, especially one like you."  
_Ouch, that sounded hurtful_. "What if they-"  
"If your father landed up on your doorstep this minute, asking for you to come home, would you?"  
I paused, dropping my gaze to the fire.  
He let go of the sceptre in his hand and stood up, reaching for a bag of marshmallows (it would always mystify me where he procured the goods, I had learned to stop asking.) "Just as I thought."  
"So you're going to spend night after night roasting packaged goods, then?"  
"Rubbish," he said sternly, prodding his marshmallow. "I have a plan Paton, don't you remember?"  
"I'm sorry, I've been preoccupied with car trouble and other issues lately."  
"Well, let's refresh your memory, shall we?"

Loki dusted his hands and straightened up, pointing the marshmallow end of his stick to me, "The energy core that has captivated my attention so long is no ordinary battery operated contraption, as you might perceive it, simple minded as you are."  
I grimaced and he continued, "I was drawn to it because it was strikingly familiar. You see, the blue core emits the same energy signature as the hypercube known to both Asgard and Jotunheim. A device powerful beyond your imagination."  
"And you're after it, obviously."  
"Aren't you a keen one."  
"What makes you think it's anywhere near here?" I asked, "I mean I've only just discovered there are more realms than one, which means it could be hidden absolutely anywhere."  
"Which means it could be right under our noses," he beamed.  
"Or halfway across the universe!"  
"Don't patronize me like a child. My mind is set on that hypercube, that's all that's important."  
"Isn't one dangerous weapon good enough for you?"  
"No. You don't understand. I need that cube."  
"What for?"  
"To get back-"  
"You said you wouldn't ever set foot in Asgard!"  
"Let me finish, Paton!" He sad testily. "I need that cube to get back what is rightfully mine."  
"And what's that?"  
Loki had drawn himself to his full height as he spoke - "The throne of Asgard, of course."

* * *

It took me a while to digest this.  
"You mean to return, then?" I asked. "After you_ said_ you wouldn't touch Asgard with a twenty-mile pole!"  
"I said no such thing," Loki shook his head, pacing around the fire. "I don't expect you to understand, it's a complicated matter. I only ask for your assistance."  
"Oh, you're _asking_ now? Well that's certainly a start. Can I expect a 'please' and 'thank you' as well every now and then?"  
"The choice is entirely yours, Paton," he said, locking me with a steely gaze, "I am grateful for the kindness you have extended to me, meagre though it may be. I can understand if this task is too much for a Midgardian, I only hoped to be thanked in some small way after repairing the damage to your vehicle."

_Oh no. No no no. He's smooth talking you into a corner Paton! He's literally conning you into an extended slave-agreement_. _Don't fall for it! You've done enough! You gave everything you had! Your home, your truck, your time, your patience_.

"What d'you mean, 'too much for a Midgardian'?" I snapped.  
_What are you doing, you're letting him poison you!_  
"I only implied it might be above your ability to-"  
"You may be a Norse god with magic and centuries of wealthy lineage, Loki, but I have faced and conquered this world to the best of my abilities!"  
"Undoubtedly, Paton."  
_Paton, shut your pie-hole, don't you know what you're getting into?_  
"I had nothing and no one when I first came to Riverside, now I have a life and a home, which is more than I can say for-" I thought better of what I was about to utter, "for a lot of Midgardians. Finding a bloody blue cube is no great task, I assure you. It pales in comparison with having to put up with you and your ways for hours at an end, I can tell you that!"  
"My my," he smirked at me, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't decide whether to be thrilled or insulted."  
"Be both," I growled. "We start a search in the morning."  
"Splendid."

As I was turning around to go, the toe of my boot hit something and I tumbled forward.  
_What a bloody brilliant exit, Paton. Way to dissolve every formidable ounce of your little speech just now._  
I flushed red and dusted my knees, holding up the sceptre that had brought me on all fours twice in one day. The curved metal of the scythe glinted mockingly at me.  
I held it out, standing up straight again, "Loki, can't you keep an eye on your damn sce-"  
I never got to complete myself, because I was distracted by a sharp singing in my ears and a white hot beam of light that grew in the womb of the core and shot upwards into the clear night sky. It was the most powerful beam of light I had ever seen, brightening the entire town for a brief moment before dissolving like a large pearly column into the blackness of the sky.  
"What have you done?" Loki breathed, striding towards me.  
"I-I don't know i-it just-" I stuttered, "It j-just went off on it's-on it's own, I swear!"  
He snatched the sceptre from his hands, searching the sky with his eyes.  
"I don't know what happened," I ran my hands through my hair, following his gaze and then looking back to his face. There was no anger or fear in his eyes. They were hard and unblinking; cold, sharp emeralds that cut and drew blood from prying fingers.  
"Marvelous," he said neutrally, still looking upward.  
I cast my gaze to the night sky, that was darkest where the light had disappeared. I couldn't hear the sound of a rip, but I was almost certain there was a rip. A tear in the sky itself. Something was welling in the darkness of the night; there was a light, pin-sized but growing, like a star being born, only more powerful. It was as if the sceptre had shot a beacon for help into space, and somebody had answered.

* * *

_**A/N: And this concludes Part Two of the story! I hope y'all liked it. Tell me what you thought of it so far! Likes, dislikes, suggestions. I'll keep it all in mind as I write out Part Three. Wow, I never thought I could achieve a three-part story ever. If I actually manage to finish this, DRINKS ARE ON ME (UNLESS YOU'RE UNDERAGE, BUT THEN AGAIN, SO AM I.)**_


	21. Visitors in The Night

_**A/N: I am a douchebag for making you wait so long. I had all these ideas in my head and I've been punching them into my phone for nights at end. There's been a lot of rough shit in my life of late and I wasn't in a good place to begin writing, but I think I can now, so here it is. Also, send me some love in the reviews? I could use it just as much as Loki could right now :/**_

* * *

**Part Three: Porcelain Prince**

I wasn't as composed as him. He just stood there in stiff silence, eyes cast skywards as the world around us seemed to be crumbling to pieces in a single ray of light. I could feel my feet pounded through the grass and my hands wringing and my heart thudding, but my mind itself was bereft of all sensation.

"Will you please stop prancing around like a rooster!" Loki snapped.

But the order fell flat on its stomach as I continued to chew on my nails and shift my weight from one foot to another, considering bolting and never coming back. After what seemed like ages and ages of having my pupils assaulted by the bright light, something dark was emerging from its very core - oddly shaped and emitting a high frequency sound that sent me to my knees, holding fast onto my ears.

Loki seemed much unaffected by the display and stood his ground until the light began to die down. Blinking away the tears from my eyes I noticed the outline of what had descended into the clearing behind my small cottage and my jaw hung slack.

_UFOS? U-flippin'-FOs, Paton. You did not sign up for this shit. This is not happening. You're probably dreaming. You must've fallen asleep in the truck waiting for a delivery on the pier. It's late Monday morning and your life is a mess, but it's a mess you can handle. This shit, you dreamed up so start pinching!_

I couldn't quite manage it and remained frozen on the ground as I tried to make sense of what was unfolding before me.

Cracking open's more like it, really: the dust was settled around what could only be described as a spaceship. Streamlined, jagged and made of burnished metal, it stood imposingly against the trees and with a loud hiss the front began to slide open. Loki watched in rapt interest as two figures emerged from the mouth of the ship. The voice in my head was full on screaming and I hadn't realized the sentiments were dancing on my tongue as well.

"I don't want to die like this," I moaned pathetically.  
"Quiet!" Loki whipped around on me, his emerald eyes ablaze.

They were a pair of the most hideous creatures I had ever seen, armour and jowls and teeth and saber-like claws and nasty red glows where they eyes should've been, but they were surprisingly human in their build and sure-footed with an intimidating gait. My heart beat in fear, but a part of me was rejoicing in the fact that they didn't have much the same effect on Loki. He stood, poised like a cat about to pounce, watching their every move as they stepped towards us, their breath rasping and menacing. He slowly lowered the lethal end of the sceptre at them and stared them down.

The strange beast on the left snarled loudly, the mouth twisting itself into a cruel world in a language I couldn't understand. If I thought housing a cast-out prince (a dangerous, damaged cast-out prince, no less) was the most incomprehensible thing that had ever happened to me, I wasn't at all prepared for what followed.

Loki responded to the low growls, "You cannot harm me. I am a god."  
There was a shrill cackling sort of noise and some clicking.  
"Why should I believe you?" Loki asked slowly.  
The creature on the right offered some sort of answer, a lengthy one. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that Loki was a master of many things, including, apparently, inter-galactic-linguistics.  
"Well, then that makes two of us," Loki went on in a low tone.  
More growling through hideous jaws; I found my body shuddering. _The only thing between you and sudden death is an uptight and supernatural house-guest, you couldn't wish for better odds, actually._ Actually, that was probably true. But then I was rather quick to judge. Who was to say they couldn't overpower an injured and weakened god?  
"I don't enter deals with your kind," Loki sneered.  
The creatures did not seem to take this very well. One of them lunged forward but was restrained by the other, who began a negotiation of sorts in short clicks and growls.  
Loki stood a long moment in deep thought.  
I was close to having my knees buckle.  
He spoke at last, "And you offer me your entire army?"  
A roar of confirmation.  
A cold smile slid over Loki's face. He nodded once at them and said, "Very well."

I watched in abject horror as his outstretched hand was swallowed by the gnarled claw, up once, down once and that was that.


	22. The Oddest of Occurences

_**A/N: Yes, okay, that last one was just filler. But more good stuff, coming. I promise. Let's see how we can get these two to fall in love or fall on their faces, hm?**_

* * *

**2**

"WHAT," I shrieked, "ON EARTH. WAS THAT?"  
Loki surfed the channels nonplussed and briefly glanced at me.  
"Paton, you look a mess," he remarked, settling for MTV again.  
"NO!" I crossed the room and unplugged the television set, crossing my arms over my chest.  
He held out his hands in irritation and was about to begin talking when I cut him off.  
"Loki, there are-" How does one even say these things? "There are bloomin' aliens in my bloomin' backyard. There is a bloomin' Norse god sprawled on my sofa, and above all, there is no bloomin' money in my bank."  
"I appreciate the effort you're putting into not swearing-"  
"NO!" I said again, jabbing a finger at him. "Explain!"  
"What?"  
"Full disclosure agreement. Now, put with it!"  
He let his head fall back onto the back of the couch and sighed, eyes closed, "I wish you would just calm down and trust me on this-"  
"GOD OF LIES, OH-"  
"Now there's no need to be ru-"  
I quickly made a dodge for the sceptre that was lain on the coffee table, but Loki seemed to anticipate my intentions and sprung forward at the same moment. I tugged and heaved with all my might, half managing to drag him into the edge of the table and loosen his grip a little.  
"Oh, yes, perfectly grown up way to handle the situation, Paton!" He growled, raising his palm to me.  
Before I knew it, I could feel my body being pulled upward by an invisible force. _I was floating_. **Floating.**  
"Let me down!"  
"Why don't you apologize first?"  
"Who's being grown up now?" I said angrily, still suspended in mid air. Then I found I could propel myself forward by thrashing my limbs about.  
"Paton, stop it!" He warned, holding the sceptre away from me, but I had managed to grab onto the collar of his shirt. My intention was to put him in a headlock, but worry of all worries I found myself floating upside down in the air with my arms squeezed tightly around his neck in case I fell.  
"This is the thanks I get?" I screamed, kicking at the ceiling, completely unperturbed by the novelty of the situation. It almost seemed like a normal, daily occurence.  
"You should be thankful I let you live after you bulldozed over me with your car!"  
"Why I oughta-"  
"Release me!"  
"Me first!"  
"This is ridiculous," he decided.  
"What are you waiting for?"  
"For you to let go of course!"  
"I demand an explanation as to why I have aliens in my back yard."  
"If you let me go-"  
"Let me down, first."  
"Paton!" He cried in exasperation.  
"Fine, on the count of three, I let go and you let me down."  
"Rather trusting of you, isn't it?"  
"One."  
"Oh, for the love of-"  
"Two."  
"Alright!"  
"Three."

I must admit this was a poorly thought out plan. As soon as I'd undone my vice grip around his neck, I felt the upward tug disappear from my body and I collapsed rather painfully onto Loki, sending us both crashing to the floor.

"Fool!" He spat.  
"This is your fault," I moaned, rolling over on to one side, clutching my throbbing elbow. "No more magic in the house."  
"I have never been so brutally insulted and treated so poorly in all my life!"  
I glared at him and pulled myself to my feet, "Get on with it then!"  
He narrowed his eyes at me and rolled his shoulders.

"They are called the Chitauri," he said sharply, massaging his neck. "An alien race with incredible power."  
"What do they want with us?"  
"Not you. Just me. You see I've struck a deal with them."  
"Deal? What kind of deal?"  
"They're looking for a lost relic, incidentally the very one I seek."  
"The cube?"  
He nodded, "Perhaps you clumsiness has been a boon all along."  
_I don't like your tone, mister_. "What?"  
"When you shot that beam up into space, the Chitauri traced it immediately. Convinced it was the hypercube, they sent down emissaries to retrieve it."  
_All this jazz over a cub_e?  
"But we don't have it, we don't have the cube."  
"How observant of you. Of course not, and they were going to vapourize us, but I doubt your boss would've taken that very properly."  
I gasped just a little at the thought of being vapourized. There were so many things I hadn't done yet. Like skiing.  
"Well, what _do_ they want?"  
"The hypercube, haven't you been listening?"  
"But don't you need it to-"  
"I have found better use for it," Loki folded his arms. "I will trade them the hypercube for full control of their army."  
"_Army_?"  
"And with it, I will march to Asgard and take what is mine."

I blinked at him a long moment. A choked splutter escaped my lips.  
"What's the matter with you?" He asked, aghast as I began to gag, doubling over and panting.  
"Nothing," I gasped, "I'm fine. Just blacking out is all, perhaps losing the function of my left kidney. It's all fine."  
"Indeed?"  
"Peachy, just peachy," I thumbed a fist into my chest and straightened up, taking support of the island. "So these uh, these Chitin - these, uh, these Chatter-"  
"Chitauri."  
"Are they dangerous?"  
Loki shrugged, "Well, I suppose so, they're shapeshifters and they often assume the shapes of their kills after they're done with their innards."

I spent the next ten minutes retching into the toilet bowl. _What the hell have you just gotten yourself into, old girl?_


	23. Of All Things

_**A/N: Love goes out to Ivory Tears, whose reviews keep me a-writin' :D and of course to Kim and BoundaryBreaker , I hope you're reading ;) And finally Gabby, chug chug chug chug!**_

* * *

**3**

I watched them from the window, those large ugly things traipsing about my back yard like a young couple under the June sun. It made my stomach turn. Not so much how they looked, but what they meant by it - they could kill you in your sleep without so much as a second thought. _But then, so could he._

I felt the curtain rustle beside me as Loki leaned against the kitchen wall, fixing me with a had gaze.

"Haven't you slept at all?" He asked after a while.

I continued to watch the Chitauri - they were seated around the burnt out hearth, talking to each other in quick clicks and shrill sounds. Casual conversation, I decided.

"You'll forgive me for not being able to sleep in the full knowledge of-" I let the sentence trail off, pressing a finger to the glass panes.  
"It's no wonder you're such a mess, your nerves are always getting the better of you."  
"I doubt you'd fare any better in my position," I grumbled.  
"Of course I would," Loki chuckled. "I'm simply more skilled at everything."  
"It really is refreshing hearing your humour in the morning, your majesty," I said, turning to him with a mock smile. I returned to the window and muttered, "You in the house, I could tolerate, you help around sometimes and you're pleasant on the eyes, but these-"  
"_Pleasant on the eyes_, am I?" He said with a sly grin.  
"Credit's due where credit's due, but you're still an awful prat sometimes."  
Loki raised his eyebrows in mock interest, "_sometimes_."  
"Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?"  
"Full steam ahead."  
"And if they're duping you?" I let the curtains fall back into place and turned to face him. He was now inspecting an old apple near the sink.  
"I'm a trickster, Paton, not a court fool."  
"And where's the guarantee you'll have this-this godforsaken army?"  
"We don't need contracts."

I was too tired to continue the conversation. It was almost noon, time for me to head on down to the pier for a shipment of stationery to the South Dutton school. I ran my fingers through my hair and changed my t-shirt after dousing myself in ample deodorant. This wasn't a glamourous job, I didn't really have to bother. I paused at the centre of the living room and threw down my messenger back onto the coffee table.

"I can't do it," I said, sinking into the couch.

Loki looked up at me from a tin of condensed milk, "sorry, do what?"  
"I can't bloody go to work today. I'm tired as hell and I can't leave the house with those things running about in the back."  
"I could watch the house, if it's such a big deal for you," he said, as if having a house was like having one of those emo-phases you went through in high school.  
_Nope, no. This isn't going to fly._

Just as Loki was about to say something, there was a sharp rap at the door.

We both looked around in surprise.

My first thought was _shit it's the cops, hide the cocaine!_ but that really didn't make much sense because why would the cops be after me and if I could afford cocaine I wouldn't be holed up in some tiny cottage with no food.

Loki nodded his head at me, "I believe protocol would have you open the door and smile while you do it."

I glowered at him and stood up, taking short shuffling steps towards the door. None of my clients ever came knocking even if it was an emergenc delivery. Maybe a neighbour needed to borrow some sugar Did people still do that? Or was that just code word for intercourse? Either way I didn't see myself at the helping end of that transaction. Almost frozen with curiosity, I twisted the door handle and pulled.

At first I blinked wildly when the sun hit my eyes, then I focused on the stocky man standing at my door - he had hard brown eyes, a prominent forehead with a receding hair line and a handlebar moustache that was set so sternly it made you reevaluate all your major life decisions.

My breath and my words got tangled up somewhere and I choked out the only word I could muster -

_"Dad?"_

* * *

_**A/N: Uh oh! Cliffhanger! Is it? Yeah I think it is. Well. I bet no one saw that coming. I'm quite please with myself, but I know you probably aren't because I'm gone for weeks and I come up with three piddly little chapters as some consolation. But the story's moving along, eh? What do you think?**  
_


	24. Second Houseguest

_**A/N: Okay, screw author's note**_

* * *

**4**

Standing around with your jaw open is a perfect way to look like an idiot. I was still willing to believe it was a trick of the light, but as he folded his arms and took a step back, that seemed more and more unlikely. My father made a gruff noise that sounded an awful lot like "this was a mistake", but I couldn't be sure.

I heard Loki coming up behind me and quickly slipped through the door and shut it. _What are you doing? As if this is any less awkward!_

My father hesitated and I tried to break the silence with as innocent a question I could pose: "What are you doing here?"  
"Came to see how you were holdin' up," he nodded.  
And why shouldn't he turn up at the door step of his unsucceful daughter's run-down and poorly kept shack to size up all the lost opportunities she had to her name? That was believable. Of course he wanted a glimpse of just how sadly I was faring in life, to reinforce his idea of me - the lazy dimwitted second child who would never amount to nothing. I began fighting back the tears I knew were coming. _And all this after just eight words? Don't be pathetic, suck it up_.  
"I'm doing just fine," I said, summoning the most level voice I had. "I have a house and a job and - and," I coughed, "and friends here. I'm doing fine. Not five-star, but decently, if you ask me, and you did."  
Gregory McAllister's eyes shone with a kind of depth I had never seen, a falter, two eyebrows pulling together in confusion, "Paton, what are you-"  
"This is what it's always been about, right?" I cut in before he had the chance to call me an idiot or sneer at my lodgings and talk about what could have been. "I know I haven't lived up to all your expectations, Dad, but I'm fending for myself and it suits me fine, so you didn't have to drive all the way here to-"  
"I didn't drive, I took the bus," he said hoarsely. There was a tremor in his voice that was uncharacteristic.

My father shook his head and tucked his thumbs into his armpits when he spoke again, "You never heard, did you?"  
"Heard what?"  
"Your mother," he said slowly, "She's been writing you for ages."  
"Yeah, so?"  
"She's dead."

I thought I heard a scuffling sound behind the door as I tightened my grip on the handle, but it might have just been the knots inside me vying for better positions in the pit of my stomach.  
"What?" I blurted.  
"Don't pretend like you didn't hear me," he said, and I could tell he was about to fly into a rage. "She wrote you every single month since she found your goddamn address, do you even bother to read those letters?"  
"I don't have-"  
"She wrote about everything, the accidents, the chemo, the nurses they would send around to the house."  
"I didn't know-"  
"We had to sell the car to pay the med bills; mortgage for the house piled up; I'm living at new motels every night, god damn it."  
This was probably rock bottom for my dad. He had probably never felt this depressed or alone or out of options in his life. _Fat lot of good all his planning and gloating had done him! _He loved mom so much, just like he loved Olivia. It must have upset him to no end. _And just what kind of daughter are you going to be now, Paton? Begrudging? Forgiving?_

"So what do you want me to do about it?" I spat and then stood wrapped in the thickness of the silence, half unable to believe my own words or tone.

He shook his head and began turning around.

"I should've known better than to expect any respect from you," he mumbled. "I'm your old man for Pete's sake!"  
"What do you want me to do?" I called out and he paused.  
"Your mother loved you, you know," his eyes were black with disgust. "And you cut her off. Me, I understand, but she never meant anything but the best for you. I did too, but you never saw that."  
I wanted to hole myself up in my room and stay hidden for days, without word, without food.  
"Why did you really come here?" I asked, watching him in the driveway.  
My father turned to me, a frown I knew so well was plastered on his face, like it killed him to say the words, "You're all the family I have left, Paton, and you make me wish that-"  
Whatever it was, I never found out. He began walking.

_This is your chance, Paton. Redeem yourself._

I was close to returning indoors and never thinking on the matter again but a small voice inside me was beating around my rib-cage and up my throat until finally:

"You can stay here."

He looked over his shoulder as if to say, I don't need your charity, you're in need of it yourself.

But to my great surprise he squared his shouldered and took the long walk of shame up the drive to the porch. He paused and looked up shamefully at me.

"I mean, that's if you want to," I added. "It's not glamorous living and the toilet backs up a lot."  
"I'll take what I can get."  
Have it your way, Dad.  
_Did you forget what's waiting for you on the other side of the door or is this one of your harebrained schemes?_


	25. Rock and a Hard Place

_**A/N: This is like juggling. Good luck Paton and good luck me.**_

* * *

**5**

I pulled open the door and entered the room edgewise, careful not to knock anything off the coat-rack.

The familiar smell of burning food greeted me and I was immediately reminded of just how many things were wrong with my house and I didn't mean financially.

My father shuffled his feet unwillingly, squeezing into the small space before emerging into the living room with me. He didn't want to be hear any more than I wanted him to, but Pride that day seemed to steer clear of both me and my father, settling purring onto the feet of none other than -

"Loki," I hissed, trying to conjure and excuse for his existence on my couch.  
"Whassat?" My father asked me, then catching sight of the man seated regally on my threadbare cushions, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Who's this?"  
"Uh, this is my fr-boyfriend," I said unable to get the words out in the right order. Loki looked equally confused.  
"What?" Greg McAllister said in his characteristic way.  
"Don't pretend like you didn't hear me," I said more solidly now.  
Loki didn't bother to rise to his feet, he just sat rather arrogantly at the centre of the room, sizing us up.  
"You never mentioned-"  
"Actually, my fiancee," I changed tracks. He was sure to give me hell for an unholy relationship. _Olivia would never just sleep around like that, Paton. Why can't you be more like Olivia?_

My first house guest did not at all like the sound of where this was headed at all and to be honest, I didn't either.  
"Fiancee?" My father tried to understand just how his underachieving daughter had managed it. He looked him up and down and Loki returned this with an unblinking steely gaze. _WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, PATON._

"Yes," I said, looking Greg McAllister right in the eye, daring him to criticize.  
"Well," he began then thought better of it. "That's a surprise. What's yer name, son?"  
"His name's H-Hansen," I rushed between them. "H-he's not from here."  
"Where's he from?" My father narrowed his eyes at Loki.  
"Where's he from?" I repeated, trying to recall the name of the city I always went with. I tried another tactic, jabbing my thumb at Loki at saying, "look at him, isn't it obvious?"  
"Svalbard," Loki offered, rolling his eyes.  
"He speak any English?" My father asked, as if referring to a parakeet at the zoo. Loki seemed to notice.  
"No, not much," I said, shooting my accomplice-by-default a significant look. "Hansen, my father."  
I gesticulated wildly to sell my story. I could almost feel the waves of contempt rolling off both men. _What a lovely situation to be stuck in_.

"H-honey," I choked, "c-can I talk to you for a second?"  
"No," Loki said bluntly.  
My father turned to me brows raised.  
"He's still learning English," I lied and then spoke more severely, "The bedroom, _now_."

I swore to myself I would actually strangle him if he didn't take my cues. To my great relief he did, pushing himself off the couch and meandering about the sparse furniture till he filled the whole door frame with his hesitation.  
"I will have no part in this," he growled in a low voice.  
"I freaked out okay!" I admitted, running my fingers through my hair multiple times.  
"This greatly hinders our arrangements, Paton."  
"You think I don't know that?" I all but yelled and then slapped a hand over my mouth. "Get in here."

I grabbed his elbow roughly and steered him into the room, poking my head out for a moment to tell my father we'd be with him shortly.

Slamming the door shut behind us, I took a long, deep breath and flexed my fingers.  
"This is bad."  
"Oh, really?" He said in mock concern.  
"As if my life wasn't already complicated enough with you living here and driving me half-mad, but there are blasted aliens scurrying around the backyard and how am I supposed to explain this to my father?"  
"Who says you have to?"  
I drew back. _Who says you have to? No one says that. No one ever did. You don't owe the man any explanations. He gives you years and years of self-loathing and dejection and the next time you see him he bears bad news. You owe him nothing. He should just be grateful to have a roof over his head for the night and he's welcome to leave any time he wants._

"Where is he going to sleep?" I began mumbling, holding my head like it was going to become unhinged any second.  
"Paton, if you're quite done," Loki sighed.  
"I can't turn him out now!"  
He cracked his knuckles, "I could make this easier for you, I have a scep-"  
He didn't quite finish his sentence as both our heads snapped in the direction of the door. Without a word, we flung it open and raced out into the living to find my father sitting on the sofa, picking at the loose sponge. The sceptre was well within reach of him but he hadn't noticed it yet, leaned against the side of the couch where Loki had left it.  
"He must be blind as you are clumsy," Loki observed.  
"I'll distract him, you get the sceptre into my room."

I tiptoed around the couch to my father and cleared my throat, "Dad, Loki and I have discussed things a bit."  
I spoke slowly and deliberately, allowing my partner-in-crime to edge towards the sceptre silently. But my father turned around to survey him. Loki froze and nodded soberly at him till he turned around to me.  
"We don't have a lot of room, Dad, but we'll try and set you up comfortably."  
"That's fine, I'll take the couch." Greg McAllister had obviously thought this out in the little time I had given him. "Can't be worse than a mouldy mattress wet with who-wants-to-know-what, can it?"  
"The couch?" I would have to sleep on the floor then. "Great, I'll pull out a few pillows and blankets."  
He grunted, folding his arms. Loki was almost at the sceptre now.  
"Hey Dad," I said, getting my father to turn completely to me once more as Loki made a grab at his most prized possession. "The trouble is, L-Hansen and I are going out for a few days and we-"  
Lines began to crease my father's face - once again I came up short. "When do you leave?"  
I glanced at Loki, who was standing in a corner, holding the sceptre behind his back.  
"When did you say departure was?" I asked wearily.  
"Tomorrow morning."  
"You said he don't speak English."  
"He's learning."  
"This was a mistake," Greg McAllister was rising to his feet.  
"No," I said quickly. _Why not? Let him go!_ "You can stay."  
Loki made a hollow sound and ducked away to my room.  
"I don't think your boy wants me here."  
"Well he's just going to have to suck it up for one day," I said, sounding more like my father than I was comfortable with.  
"I'll be out of your hair tomorrow," came the dry response, and he added, as I walked away, "doesn't give me much pleasure being here anyway."

* * *

**A/N: So? What do you think? I'm trying to make up for the long hiatus!**


	26. No Vacancy

**_6_**

When he had dozed off on the couch after grilling me about my job for half an hour, I left my father in the house and went to the backyard for a breather.

It was hardly a breather though, considering what I laid my eyes upon.

The two Chitauri were busy sharpening some sort of spearing tools, seated on one of the innumerable projections of their spacecraft. I swallowed hard and forced my feet towards them. Two pairs of evil eyes glinted at me, tense jowls in a nasty sneer.

"Where is Loki?" I addressed them as plainly as I could, but for vanity or language they ignored me and continued working at their tools. I contemplate backing away slowly, without giving them access to vulnerable spots, but then again when I looked at it, they were large lethal monsters and I was a bag of skin and bones with plenty of juice.

"You need not fear them," I voice boomed from somewhere above me. "At least not yet."

Loki was perched on the very top of my house, straddling a curious object - a cross between a snow sled and a hover craft, for it had no wheels.

"What you got there, Loki?"

He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on what I could only presume was the steering, "Prototype."  
"Of what exactly?"  
"The Chitauri, besides being first class predators are, as you will soon realize, excellent engineers."  
Another question skilfully evaded.  
"What happens now?" I asked.  
"Well it was all quite simple really, before you complicated matters."  
"I'm a complicated person," I shrugged.  
In a heartbeat Loki was standing next to me, "I'll leave damage control to you then."  
"What could possibly go wrong in the next twelve hours?"  
"Do listen to yourself while you speak," Loki rolled his eyes.

I looked from the solitary contraption on my room to the spacecraft where the Chitauri were working.

"And if someone happens to notice all this," I gestured about the yard, "happens to call in the police?"  
"Yes?"  
"Well then they'll have it all disposed of and my house will be raised to the ground and I'll probably be arrested."  
"A risk I'm more than willing to take," he smiled coolly.  
I grabbed his wrist, "Just what do you think you're trying to pull here, Loki?"  
His eyes, I thought to myself, they were always hard now - precious emeralds, but without much soul.  
"Are you even sure this is a good idea?"  
"Of course."  
"No, I mean look at them," I jerked my head towards the abominations in my yard. "Look closely. Do you really think you can trust them?"  
Loki remained quiet.  
"This is not a Beauty and the Beast thing - all that beautiful on the inside crap. I mean really look and tell me you don't feel the same uneasiness about them that I do."  
"You have every reason to feel uneasy, you're a defenseless mortal. I have several advantages over you."  
I stared at him hard. _Give me a straight answer you wretch!_  
Often I was certain he could hear me thinking. Anger flashed across his eyes and then for the first time in days I saw the depth in them again. For a brief moment I saw the lost boy.  
"It is irrelevant," he said, "Perhaps they are not trustworthy, perhaps this will lead nowhere, but I have no more options and do not take this as insult directed at you in particular but I have no wish to wither and die among your people."  
I realized I was still grasping his wrist in my fingers; quickened pulse, how very odd. I dropped his hand and turned away to the house.

Just before pushing open the screen door in the back of the house, I furrowed my brows and called out in a cold voice, "Try and keep the noise down till tomorrow morning, if you think you can manage that, your majesty."

* * *

Dinner was a solemn affair, but I put my pride aside and gave Loki my warmest smile when I found the table set with clean plates and actual food - not out of a can, but something that had stewed in its own juices a good hour and was garnished with herbs. Some poor sod across town was probably wondering where his meal had gotten to.

"Where's mine?" Greg McAllister was not one to mince words.  
I looked down at the table. Only two plates and two pairs of silverware. That damn trickster.  
"My mistake," I took the fall. "We're so used to just the pair of us dining together."  
I hopped to the kitchen and scrounged around for a plate.  
"And my chair?"  
There were only the two rickety bar stools.  
"Forget it, I'll take the couch," Greg McAllister mumbled, roughly ladling himself his share and drifting as far away from me as the four walls would allow.

I sat down opposite Loki, believing I could cut through the tension with the knife in my right hand.

Silence.

Halfway through my first course I glanced up at him; he had barely touched his food. He caught my gaze once. I wanted to thank him, but I just looked away and hummed to myself. It was hard to be grateful to a stuck-up conjurer. I was left to do the dishes again as my father settled down into the couch, the flickering light of the eleven o'clock news dancing on him. It was strange to see him 'making-do' like that. Strange to see him accepting help. Strange to see him, period.

Loki had disappeared into my room, where he stationed himself at the window, watching the Chitauri outside. They had kept rather quiet.

I cleared my throat when I was done drying the spoons.

"Anything else?" I asked, trying to use as few syllables to communicate as was humanly possible. Greg McAllister did not turn to look at me, he simply shook his head. "Alright, then."  
"There's something," he began, reaching into the folds of the jacket he was still wearing. I watched as he pulled out a blue paper envelope that was bent and dog-eared. He smoothed it across his knee and held it out to me, making eye contact at last.  
"What's this?"  
"She never got around to posting this. Last one she ever wrote. It's not finished though."  
I took the letter with a trembling hand and read the neat but faded cursive on the front.

"Thanks," I said forcefully. "Goodnight."  
"'Night," he said gruffly, still watching me.  
_You did not think this through at all, eh? _No, I can't say I did. Unsteadily and most unwillingly I turned around and slipped into my bedroom, shutting the door with a click.  
"What," Loki began, "are you doing?"  
Well, I haven't the slightest idea, to be honest.


	27. Moon Drive

**A/N: Daliah Valley, you made my day. Here's another chapter!**

* * *

**7**

If anyone should've been furious, it should've been me.

"This is not how I imagined it," I sighed bitterly, staring up at the ceiling as we lay stiffly under the sheets.  
"What was wrong with the floor?" Loki said acidly.  
"Oh, I don't know, wanna give it a try?"

Why did I have to share everything with him? I realized by now that he had almost full access to my thoughts I was doing a crap job of keeping them barred from him.

He snorted once, "Oh, that's likely." I had been thinking of spearing him through with the kitchen knife.

Was he really even immortal? He bled, he had injuries. They healed pretty fast, but a nasty wound to the head would've been as detrimental to him as it would be to me, wouldn't it?

He seemed to have caught wind of this thought as well and turned roughly onto his side, pulling the blanket right off me as he settled into an angry cocoon on my left.

"Give it!" I snarled, trying to pull back my half but he was an obstinate mule. I fell back on the pillows and thought I heard a low dry laugh.

_Look at your life, look at your choices_. Be quiet! He'll hear you. _What of it? You've let on more than you should've already_. Do you ever give it a rest? You're as bad as he is, you know. _Oh I do know, and you know it too._ What's that supposed to mean? I don't like your tone. _I don't like your tone._ Don't copy me!_ Don't copy me!_

Two things dawned on me: First, I had lapsed into a childish quarrel with my own mind and second-

"IT'S FREEZING!"

I sat up, rubbing my arms for warmth. Loki was still bundled up next to me.

"Are you doing this?" I hissed. "Are you using your frost giant powers?"  
No response.  
"Stop it!"  
My breath began to rise in clouds. I groaned and rolled over, hugging my knees, but I couldn't stop shivering. That's when I caught sight of the blue envelope on the cluttered nightstand. With frozen fingers I reached for it, propping myself up on my elbows and setting it onto my pillow. In the light of the moon that came in through the window, I could read the elegant cursive:

_To Paton McAllister, 24 Travis Close, Rivers-_

The rest had been blotted out by drops of water, or maybe it was whiskey. I wouldn't put it past my father to spend a few nights at bars. I'd done it too.

It was an unsealed envelope, no stamps either. I slid out the thin paper letter that had flowers down one side if you held it up to the light. It was all part of a set that would lie in a corner of my mother's dresser. A set Olivia had bought her before the car crash. _Don't think about Olivia_. I unfolded the letter - three crisp folds horizontally and one fold down the middle; compact. I wondered if Loki was awake. I looked over at him. He lay perfectly still, chest rising and falling, his black hair splayed over the pillows. Turning my attention back to the letter, I began to read.

_Dear Paton,_  
_It gets harder to write these days, but I do it anyway in the hopes that you'll reply eventually. You've always been obstinate like your father, but I like to believe you will eventually. I'm so sick of these hospital beds, Paton. The worse I get, the harder it is to escape them. I was so fond of taking long walks in the evenings, they have a lovely garden really. It was the only bit of freedom I had and now all I ever seem to see (when I can keep my eyes open) is nurses coming and going, this horrible IV that oozes night and day and of course your father, when they let him visit. It's not often I see him; he's almost always asleep in the chair when I wake. I sometimes see a young woman in the corridor walking by and maybe it's the chemotherapy scrambling my eggs a bit, but I always think it's you, come at last to put things right. It was always you, Paton. You who should've stayed and fought. You who should've forgiven us. You who should've buried Olivia. I still hope you'll walk in through these awful doors one day, at least one last time before I_

But it ended abruptly, the 'I' trailing off, longer than any of the other letters. She had been interrupted. Perhaps a doctor with news. Bad news. Worse news. What could be worse? Knowing you were about to die? Or knowing your daughter would never come? I began to resent the hopefulness in my mother - the hopefulness that had let her down, the hopefulness that I never allowed myself to be crippled with.

I hadn't noticed my face was wet with tears. Sliding off the bed as quietly as I could, I tip-toed to the door, pulled it open and slipped into the living room. Greg McAllister was fast asleep, twitching and snoring. The keys were in a bunch on the counter, they made very little noise. I prised open the backdoor and stepped out into the night air. The blasted spacecraft was dark and immobile. The two Chitauri were nowhere to be seen. I went around the house and tucked the keys into my pocket before throwing my weight into the truck. Once I had pushed it some way down the street I got in and started the engine. The ran smoothly and quietly until I was past the pier, past Mr Delacroix warehouse office, past the patch of trees and then I drove onto the dirt path that ran along the river. The tar road swerved away from here because it would get flooded during the rains.

There was a small cove of sorts. I hadn't been here in a long while. But truthfully, I hadn't had a long while to myself just to sit and think. Wishing I had a few cans of beer with me, I left the car on the dirt road and made my way to the water's edge.

It was a calming sound, the slosh slosh slosh of the small waves, the gurgling of the pebbles and the silver foam at my feet.

I stood a long while before I was interrupted by a low velvety voice.

"You are much stronger than you give credit for, which is why I needn't be worried at this point."

Loki was leaning against the truck, arms crossed, watching me with his unreadable expression. The moon was doing wonders to his face.

I chuckled, "I should be getting used to this, not a moment's peace with you, is there?"  
"I'm going to risk sounding like I actually care," he began, "by saying that I do."  
"What?"  
"I thought you might be doing something stupid."  
"And you came after me?" I asked disbelievingly.  
"Seeing as I don't have other lodgings, I have to exercise some care for my host, don't I?"  
I smiled at the water in derision. _Of course, he doesn't really care about you, Paton_.  
"Well, good for you."  
"Are you returning?"  
"I might be a while."  
"I can wait."  
"What for?"  
"Till I'm sufficiently convinced that you're safe, for tonight."  
I looked at him, studying his face. _There's just no telling with this guy_!  
"Before this goes on any longer," Loki said. "I hope you know it wasn't your fault."  
"We have only ourselves to blame."  
"Don't be ridiculous," he shook his head, walking up to me. "Unforeseeable circumstances. That's always a clincher."  
"You don't actually believe that, do you?"  
"In my particular case, I believe it to be true, so why not for you?"  
"Because!"  
He raised his eyebrows.  
"Because so many things could have been done so differently!"  
"And it's wise to dwell over things in the past?"  
"I don't see you doing any different."  
"I look only to the future, Paton. And to you, now and again, for whatever assistance you provide."  
I rubbed my eyes onto the back of my hand.  
"Do you remember," he said slowly, "when I said we're not so different?"  
I nodded.  
"I think every day that passes shows me the truth of that statement."  
"What if-if-" I began, not entirely sure how to word my thoughts. There were just too many of them milling around my head. I had to put them together somehow, Loki turned to listen. "What if I don't want to make things right again?"  
"Well, there's only one thing to be done isn't there?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Look the future of course. There's still much to be done."


	28. A Bloodbath

_**A/N: BoundaryBreaker, here's more Greg McAllister and OC awkwardness for you!**_

* * *

**8**

"Give me your hand."  
"What?"  
"It's more convincing!"  
I felt Loki's hand take hold of mine.  
"Remember not to speak too much," The God of Lies began tutoring me. "I don't see why the man deserves any explanations or civil treatment, in my own opinion, but for this to work, we have to act the part."  
"Of course."  
"You first - oh hang on," he paused to tousle my hair until it was unbelievably messy. And I had spent time combing it out. Great.  
"What's that for?"  
Loki only gave me a knowing grin and pulled open the bedroom door. _Oh_.

"Goodmorning!" I called in an uncharacteristically sunshiney voice.  
My father, who was wide awake, reading an old magazine turned around in irritation to find me and Loki, still dressed in our night clothes, standing at the door.  
"Have a nice night?" Loki asked rather sweetly.  
Greg McAllister answered in grunts, and grunts only unless he had a point to make.  
"Well it's just about nine o'clock so-"  
"What, no breakfast?"  
I cleared my throat, "What'll you have?"  
"Bacon, eggs, toast and coffee."  
"Certainly," I said moving to the kitchen then freezing. "Oh shoot, I'm going to have to go buy some eggs."  
"I can go," Loki offered helpfully.  
"Oh, no don't be silly," I tapped his chest and laughed. "I'll only be a minute. Why don't you two sit down and talk for a while?"  
I don't think either of us had quite scripted what came next but the flow of the situation called for it.  
"See you in a while," I grinned at Loki, standing on my toes, and then kissed him.  
If he was startled he didn't show it. He simply leaned his head to one side. I quickly pulled away, flushing almost as red as a cherry and hurried across the room.  
As I was pulling my keys from the counter and heading to the door, I heard Loki ask my father in 'broken English':  
"You like sports, Mr McAllister? I have better magazine in bathroom, one moment!"

I raced around the house to the back (where the Chitauri were still asleep apparently) just in time to see the bathroom window go up. Loki stuck his head out.

"I'm sorry about the-" I winced.  
"No it's-"  
"Look the part and all that sort of thing," I rambled.  
"Well, I certainly can't say you're the _worst_ pupil I've had," Loki considered.  
"Where do I wait?"  
"Drive the car down the road and come back here," he instructed. "Can you get on the roof?"  
"There's a ladder just to the side of the house."  
"Then get on the roof and don't come down till you see him run."  
"Loki, are you-"  
"No, I promise I won't hurt him."  
"Yeah, I'd much rather the privilege was mine," I said sourly. Then I looked up at him just before leaving, "Thank you."

The plan was simple. To dig up a chunk of Greg McAllister's past and thrust it at him when he had his guard down. A staged burglary and shooting. Just violent enough to leave a nasty shock imprinted on his brain and sending running for cover. The plan had been cooked up in the wee hours of the morning as we sat on the steps behind the house. Loki had been telling me about the Chitauri, about his grand plans - the takeover of Asgard. I had given up trying to talk him out of it. And they way he said it always made perfect sense. Why shouldn't he? I might have done the same in his place. I might have done worse. Somewhere between him smashing into the hood of my truck and my dad showing up at my door, the morals I was taught crumbled under the weight of the morals I reshaped for myself. And then I had said something in passing.

_"I'd send him away if I could."_  
_"So why don't you?"_  
_"I lack the means."_  
_"Do you?_"

And that was that, the trap was laid, the strings were hung.

I started the engine again and drove down a few houses then parked behind a clump of trees before racing back, along the edge of the forest. There was my little cottage, silent still. I could see Loki and my father moving around in it. Moving? Who knew so much activity was needed for reading a Sports Illustrated. I watched through the window. There were chaotic motions; arms flailing, bodies running. And there was definitely a third man with them.

I saw my father backing away, bumping into the island; through another window, a thin wiry haired man with a narrow forehead and pig-like nose was advancing on him. He had a gun raised to my father. This man was Avery Addison, an old associate of my father's company. He had been caught embezzling from the company and Greg McAllister had flared up. I remembered the whole thing very vaguely - threatening calls in the night, cars coming by our house, my dad being more bitter than usual, even to Olivia. I was only nine then. But it had caused quite a stir in his life. He had vowed to have Addison behind bars. And he had nearly managed it, before the man escaped - fled town and simply went off radar. Every now and then we'd get a threatening call to the house, but in ten years Greg McAllistor had not heard a peep out of his former associate. Till now. I watched as it all unfolded in front of me. And then, I saw Loki jumping in between them, his arms outstretched, pleading with Addison. I heard a shot and watching in horror as Loki's bod convulsed and fell out of sight. I almost raced to the living room, but remembered my instructions.

_Get on the roof._

I began climbing the ladder, trying not to think of Loki dying. Suddenly that became my paramount fear. When I was scrambling over the tiles, I got to the little stub where a chimney was supposed to be. I could hear everything, muffled, but I could hear it.

"You said you'd do me in the next time you see me, Greg." I heard Addison.  
"This is not how it should go down."  
"Did you think I wouldn't find you?"  
"This isn't my house!"  
"No, your daughter's. But there's nowhere you can hide, Greg. Mark me."  
"Please, Avery. I'm begging you!"  
"Ha! I should waste you like I wasted him."  
"This is between you and me."  
"Well, shit. Looks like the blood's on your hands."  
Just then, the front door opened. I heard myself come in with a carton of eggs.  
"I'm back!"  
It was odd, so odd, to think of myself dropping the eggs, dodging a bullet and then hurling myself into the gunman, but that was undoubtedly what was happening. I heard the front door being flung open and saw Greg McAllistor tearing down the street. Whatever enchantment Loki had put on the house, it was quite soundproof to any of the neighbours and no one heard the gunshot that sent my magic doppelganger to the floor. If anyone did see my father thundering down the street, they might have labelled him half-mad. And if he did go to the police, forensics would show quite an alarming amount of tryptamines in his blood stream (something Loki confessed to have artfully slipped into his dinner the night before).

I clambered down the ladder, (still no sign of life from the Chitauri spacecraft) making my way to the back door and pushed it open, convinced Greg McAllister was bound for South Dutton by now.  
"Peachy," I said, taking stock of my own dead form sprawled on the living room floor. Blood was pooling about me and my glassy eyes stared upward.  
I bent over Loki's collapsed and bloodied form.  
"I don't often say this to you, so listen closely," I said, "that was simply brilliant."  
Loki looked up and me, beaming, wiping the blood from his chin and eyes, "I'd say so myself."  
I helped him up and he snapped his fingers, clearing every trace of the incident, should the police choose to visit after all.


	29. Discovery

**9**

Loki flicked the hair from his eyes and straightened up.  
"Come on, Paton. Try, I mean _really_ try."  
I exhaled sharply through my nose and reached for another plate before flinging it across the living room at him.  
He quickly shifted his weight and thrust the sceptre forward, the plate dissolved in thin air with a screech.  
I'd had enough, I grabbed six or seven of them off the rack and began hurling them in quick succession, aiming for his face every time. All he had to do was wave that sceptre around a couple of times and all my effort was in vain.  
"Keep it coming, I'm not tired yet."  
"But I am!" I argued, leaning onto the island. "I'm bloody seeing spots where my fingers should be."  
I stared at my hands in a daze for a while.  
Loki rested the sceptre on the island and pulled up his stool to sit down.  
"You've terrible aim."  
"No need for thanks, mate," I panted, giving him a thumbs up. "Why can't you ask the Chitauri?"  
"They're busy."

And I might have been too, if I still had a job. I hadn't heard from Mr Delacroix in days. Even my private deliveries around Riverside were on hold.

"So this is how I'm to spend my mornings now, is it?"  
"Not keeping you from anything important, am I?" He smirked at me.  
"Oh, shush."  
"Now that we're practically living off my magic and not your wages, you really ought to show me a little more respect."  
"I'll show you-" I made a grab for a plate but I felt my entire body being jerked through space and then blinding light hot upon my skin. Somehow I was on the roof. You learn to stop asking questions after a point.

"Oh, so you put me in time out, is that right?" I asked, scrambling over to the edge, looking for him. "Negative reinforcement will get you nowhere."  
I watched him come out into the back yard, keeping a safe distance from the spaceship. He had been doing this an awful lot, of late - practicing his magic in the yard. Sometimes I'd watch him the window, conjuring small animals into the clearing and vanishing them just as quickly. Sometimes he would himself would vanish entirely, or duplicate himself a hundred times. For now I watched him from the room as he paced around.  
"What are you doing," I asked finally.  
"Thinking."  
"About that army of yours?"  
"It isn't mine yet," came the testy response.  
"Have the Chitauri even been out in the past twenty-four hours?"  
"I question not their methods and they extend me the same kindness."  
That shut me up momentarily.  
"Could you conjure me a burger or something? I'm starving."  
Loki looked up at me, visibly perplexed. He returned to his pacing.  
I heard the rustle of a paper bag in the wind next to me - there was take-out from a fast food joint. I don't think I'd ever get enough of this free food deal!  
I bit into the burger, wincing at the extra onions. He'd probably done that on purpose.

Loki suddenly turned to the house as if he'd heard something.  
"Telephone," he said looking up at me.  
I was as surprised as he was. I found myself in the living room.  
"The police, do you think?" I asked.  
He simply shrugged, waiting by the door, with the sceptre in his hand, shrunk down considerably.  
I picked up the receiver, "Hello?"  
"Paton, that you?"  
It was a male voice I thought I recognized.  
"Paton, it's Oliver."  
"Oliver!" I clutched the receiver. I hadn't seen him in a long time. He usually took the night deliveries after me and even worked Frostborough so I wouldn't have to.  
"Where have you been?"  
"I haven't been getting any calls, Olly. I thought there was a standstill. With the oil-spill and all?"  
"Yeah, yeah, that," he said slowly. "There was. We even had a few outages in the warehouse. Work's backed up by two days."  
"What's the problem?"  
"Can't say yet. Grid distribution problems maybe. Anyway, we need you to come in today."  
"And Delacroix?"  
"He wants ever man and woman out, now."  
"I'm on my way," I said gingerly.

Loki was not overly pleased by this, but he promised to keep the house in working order while I was out.  
"It's just a few quick deliveries," I said slipping into my shoes and jacket. "I'll get paid up front."  
"Marvelous."  
"Hey," I said, halfway out the door. "I'm getting my pay. We should celebrate."

* * *

It felt surprisingly good to be on a job again, to be of some use. _You were useful to Loki_. I drove down to my final delivery in South Dutton. The roads were quieter in this part of town and the houses were much bigger. As I cruised along the need lanes it struck me that I had been here before. 29 Palace Street. I had been here before. The night I found him near the game-reserve.

The house was as darkened and foreboding as I remembered it. I looked at the parcel on the seat next to me. Simple brown packaging, coarse rope and a printed address. It was much lighter than the last parcel I had delivered. A feather in comparison. I slid out of my truck and walked up to the tall gates. The camera zoomed in on me and I swallowed.

"What's your business," a husky female voice asked.  
"Riverside deliveries."  
There was a click and the gates opened admitting me along the neatly paved path to the front door. I rang the doorbell and much like last time everything happened very quickly. I got a better look at the woman's face, if nothing else. She was beautiful, smooth-skinned with large eyes and full lips and dark red hair. There were more people this time, I was sure of it. I could hear them talking inside. It all came in disjointed scraps:

"Pretty unstable as far as I'm concerned."  
"Put a pot of brew on would you?"  
"Never seen a cube quite like it."  
"Tasha are you done?"  
"Heading out for a drink, you guys want anything?"

I thought nothing of it as I made my way to the truck, happy to have made my final delivery. Delacroix had paid me in full that morning and the envelope was heavy with notes in my pocket. I was happy that he trusted me that much. I drove back into the denser part of South Dutton. I passed a car where a cop was writing a ticket and realized I hadn't strapped on my seatbelt. I was at a long red light, placing the clipboard onto the seat and buckling down when it hit me.

_"Never seen a cube quite like it."_

I must've broken at least ten traffic rules as I raced home, going well over 100 on the Riverside roads. I left the car in the dive, engine running, doors open and burst into my living room. Loki spun around in surprise to find me panting and rasping. He waited a moment for me to catch my breath.  
"I know where it is," I breathed.  
"Where what is?"  
"The hypercube. I know where it is."


	30. Departure

**Well, this is embarassing. Apparently I excel at fuck ups. Sorry about posting that other fic by mistake. Here it is, I finally updated.**

* * *

**10**

"Or-or at least I knew where it was, but they might have taken it away, I couldn't- it was the same place, but I saw their faces this time, I even heard-"

"Paton, stop your yapping and tell me exactly what you mean."

It took a while before I could properly produce my evidence to him, the words came out in babbling brooks until I composed myself (but then again it might have just been his magic). I felt airy and light headed and so I drew a breath and explained at length:

"There was a delivery, in South Dutton, not far from here, that came from overseas. It was mighty heavy but not very large, I know, because I made that delivery myself, with you in the passenger seat."

Loki crossed his arms and listened more intently, so I continued.

"You were injured and weak, you didn't sense it. I couldn't possibly have. We still hadn't the sceptre," I reasoned. "The house on Palace Street, it struck me as odd. They took the package from me right away and sent me out, like they didn't want me hanging around. The place hadsome pretty tight security too, like they were guarding something."

Loki's brow creased and he sucked in a breath of air, "Unbelievable."

"I had to make another delivery at the house on Palace Street today," I continued as he paced up and down. "I thought I overheard something but it didn't strike me until I was halfway here. They were talking about the hypercube."

"It's been under our noses this whole time," he growled.

"Well that's _my_ hunch, but it's been more than a week, we can't know for sure if it's still-"

"Of course it is!" He snarled bringing his fist down on the table.

I hadn't noticed my heart was still thudding from all the stop signs and red lights I had jumped. I took several deep breaths but the sudden rush of oxygen to my brain made me dizzy and I had to sit down.

"What will you do now?" I asked wearily.

"What must be done, of course."

"You're going after it?"

"They wouldn't relinquish it so easily," he whipped around furiously. "A new plan - a new plan is what we need."

"_We?_" I asked smally.

"The Chitauri are still non-cooperative."

"What do you mean, they're signing off their entire army to you aren't they?!"

"Yes, but the emissaries in the back yard refuse to take orders from me unless I have delivered the cube."

"So couldn't you just magic the cube out and into our house?"

I caught myself: _Our house? When did this become our house_? Well he lives here too, you know. _Oh sure, the tyrant. Why not_. _Yeah why don't you offer up your soul to him as well_?

"I will need your help."

I swallowed. Obviously I _had_ offered up my soul to him.

* * *

The Chitauri had been busy in their little spaceship. Building, Loki explained. Sometimes at night I would see a sinister green flash against the windows. I would lie awake, wondering if any of the neighbours had caught wind of the late night activities in my back yard. Perhaps not. The woods were all the enclosing I needed. In retrospect, Loki could not have found a better place to recuperate and plan. I would usually reconcile myself with this and fall asleep.

During the day, I would find him frowning hard at something, as if he was willing it to explode.

"Loki, would you like some oran-"

"Paton, please, I'm trying to think!"

He would talk to himself a lot and had gotten into the habit of leaving the bedroom door wide open, so his pacing and mumbling filled the whole house. On some nights he would let me in on his plans, rattling off about things that were, and I will admit, beyond my comprehension. From what I managed to gather, he was planning a heist. A god planning a heist. It was laughable, but something about his countenance and words kept my face straight.

A long warm shower was exactly what I needed to ease my bones. I didn't count on getting one. I had stripped down to my underwear, a bottle of shampoo and shower gel under one arm, without getting into behind the curtains. This was just how hopeful I was allowed to be. I twisted the knobs with all my might and I received a rattle of pipes and a dusty sigh from the faucet. I could have almost cried. After a long moment I heard a gurgle and witnessed the first few drip drops. I jumped right in. It was ecstasy, warm, liquid ecstasy.

Loki had been in my room, meditating over one of his devious plans, I supposed. I left him with strict instructions not to disturb me for at least five minutes. In response, he waved his hand at me carelessly.

I spent more time under the soothing flow of water than I had intended. In fact, I was there so long the hot water had run out and I hadn't even noticed when it went cold. It was the first time in a long time I had been left alone with my thoughts and when they came, they came with the force of a tidal wave. I looked back on the past few weeks, unable to believe half the things that were burnt into my memory. My thoughts invariably ran toward the irksome Norse God who had colonized me and my home.

I had no doubt he would formulate a plan to acquire the hypercube. But if he succeeded, no, _when_ he succeeded, what then? He would have his army and he would have all of Asgard on its knees before him.

_So this is it. The final act. And then it's over._

And he would be gone. And I would still be here, making my deliveries and fetching the shopping for Riverside's old and indisposed. I would still be here with bitterness in my heart. With no family. With no one but the floor rugs and the TV and the stove over which I was constantly burning my meals.

_Well, you're particularly dapper, today, aren't you, Paton?_

I braided my wet hair,absent-minded, staring at a pile of dirty laundry that should have been at a South Dutton Laundromat weeks ago.

As I toweled off, I began to wonder what Asgard was like. The realm of the gods.

_Oh, what a grand sight that would be, galloping over the bifrost in a coach drawn by ivory and sable mares._ Of course I would never be welcome there. _Of course you wouldn't, you puny insignificant-_

Just then there was a knock on the bathroom door, "Paton?"

I sighed. How could I expect to be left alone a little while when I was clearly the household help for a reviving frost giant?

I bundled my hair in a towel and threw on a robe before pulling the door open, "Yes, Loki?"

"Paton," he said formally, dressed in his green magnificence (it would always shroud my humble interior), "I am leaving for a little while."

I did a double take, "Begpardon?"

"My attention is required by the Chitauri. It would not be safe to conduct the, er, experiment within proximity to these settlements. Thus, I shall be away, perhaps a few days. You may have your room back."

I glowered up at him, wondering if he expected me to curtsy and bless him for his kindness. He didn't. He merely offered me a subtle bow of the head and was gone. Another disappearing act.

I stared at the spot where he ha stood split seconds before and murmured, "But I wanted to help."

* * *

_**Okay y'alls; This chapter is for everybody who reviewed in the past few months while I was being a butt and not updating. SORRY. HERE YOU GO. I haven't even spell checked but just-here it is-here's more of this insane story and I hope you like :)**_

_**xoxo**_


	31. Looking For Trouble

**11**

If anything at all, I'm proud to say I didn't curl up on the floor and cry copious tears at the departure of my sufficiently irritating house-guest. But god knows I felt like I could have. I felt odd being back in my room. My spine had to re-familiarize itself with the lumpy mattress. Laying down flat and gazing at the ceiling I wondered how he had slept in it at all. They must have had feather beds with silk covers, in Asgard. This thing was no better than the pavement, when compared.

Loki hadn't fiddled with any of my things, since my outburst. In fact, the sheets didn't even look slept in. Had he spent all these nights pacing and thinking? How was he supposed to get his strength back that way?

The sun was setting and I was wondering just how long 'a little while' meant. I didn't have much time, because the phone began to ring wildly off the hook in the living room.

"Hello?"

"McAllister!" Delacroix's voice barked at me. "I need you to get down here, pronto."

Any excuse to be out of that empty house.

I packed myself some sandwiches and tossed my things into the empty passenger seat. I out the truck in reverse and backed out the drive, pushing gears and hitting the gas, shuttling down the long empty road. When I arrived, the storehouse was bustling with life. I sidled past some workers and looked around. There was nothing for me on the large blackboard out front that listed each shift's details. Mr Delacroix's office was wide open and I could see his shadow against the blinds. I knocked on the glass door and he looked up from his cellphone.

"Ah, McAllister. Sorry about the inconvenience."

I gaped at him. My boss was not one to apologize. He put his phone away and addressed me again.

"Huge mess up at the East Dock. The shipment we were waiting for is finally here. Took long enough. Had to call half my workers back. Muntz will set you up."

I found Ol' Muntz in out on the pier with clipboard, surrounded by disgruntled workers.

"Man, I was halfway through my dinner."

"Suck it up, Charlie," Muntz said. "Sooner we finish these deliveries, sooner we can be home with our families."

I chewed on my lip, wishing he had not said that last bit. The man began to announce names and allocate shipments.

"McAllister. Jetson building, all boxes from Kramer's, got that?"

"Yessir," I pattered off to load my deliveries into the truck. Mere minutes after that I was driving down the highway into South Dutton once more. The other workers had grumbled all through out allocation, but I was happy to have a job on my hands. The drive was a long one. It took me to the older regions of town, where the corporate offices were located. The Jetson was a dilapidated looking place, no more than three stories, but massive and blocky with vines on the sides. It had an old charm to it, but the old security guard proved to me much of an obstacle. I did my delivery and found myself vacant and restless just a little after eight. I had parked on an empty road to eat my sandwiches.

_Well, that's it. That's the end of today_. It was frightfully dull._ No explosions, no magic, nothing_. I wondered how long it would last, the pinching boredom. I chewed my food, studying the signs on the road. _And just like that, we're back to square one_. Weston Street. Talladega Street._ Nothing to look forward to but boats and bills. Hannigan Street_. Fairview Street. _You know what this place is right? _A hop skip and a jump from Palace Street. So are you just going to wait for something interesting to happen?

"No," I breathed, with my hand already around the clutch, "I'm making sure it does."

* * *

_**WHOA. So many reads and follows and reviews. I am honoured *deep bow* I'm so glad you have read and liked my fic :) I'll make sure to update more often from now on. Shout out to Daliah Valley: xoxo. To Fangirl-Karla and Booth Seeley Booth, this chapter is dedicated to you!**_


	32. Surprise B and E

**12**

The truck was left standing a block away.

It wouldn't do to drive right up to the house unless I was planning to smash through the gate and front door and steal the hypercube for myself. And I wasn't.

I walked down the road with my hood pulled over my eyes and my hands buried in my pockets. Lots of people went walking in the night. Just in case, I broke into a slight jog as I neared the house. When I was a yard or two away from the gate, I made a great fuss about my back and stopped to breathe heavily. Resting my hands on my knees, I caught my breath and bent down to fix my shoelace. I could hear the camera above me swivelling around for a better look. It stayed on me for a moment and then focused its attention elsewhere. The whole exercise gave me the chance to have a look at the layout of the house. There was the impenetrable gate, the long walkway and the front porch - the door of which was obstinately shut. But there was a light on in the side. A service entrance. I stretched and continued down the road at a light pace. When I was well out of sight from the cameras, I ducked into the bushes and probed around the side fence. There was always a way in.

_Just how many cheap Saturday night flicks have you been watching, Paton_? Shut up. There must be some truth in it. As I was feeling around the fence for a loose plank or a crevice I could squeeze in through, I heard a door slam on the other side. Freezing, with my hair standing on end, I listened.

"That thing's not gonna be stable very long, Director," a man with a heavy voice was saying. I listened to him argue with a mute partner. There was a crack in the fence, too thin for my use, but through which I could see the old man pacing, a phone pressed to his cheek. At long last he hung up, but he continued to pace and mutter.

"_Fix it, Selvig_," he sneered. "Always _fix it, Selvig_."

I was crouched in an uncomfortable way with twigs and leaves in my hair and ears, waiting for him to go back inside or spout out some valuable information. Neither happened. Instead, i made the mistake of shifting my weight and before I knew it, the earth under me had disappeared and I was tumbling down a long metal shaft that seem to go on endlessly.

When I came out the other side, luckily it wasn't on my head. I winced and mourned my bottom and blinked through the darkness.

_What the hell was that!_ I don't know? Trap door? Pressure pads? Whatever it was, I was about to find out, because the lights went on and I scrambled behind some furniture, with my heart in my mouth. _Trespassing. Do you know what people get for trespassing? Twenty five to life. _That's probably not true, but either way, it would be difficult to explain myself under the circumstances.

I rolled underneath a desk, nearly hitting my head on the keyboard pull-out and curling up. I heard footsteps tapping their way about. Through the gap in the wooden paneling, I could see a number of curious instruments laid out across the room: measuring devices, gauges, pipes, crates, charts and a wheely whiteboard.

What is this place? A lab. That's what it was. A lab. I realized there was a high possibility of the cube being stored in a place like this.

The man I had seen earlier suddenly came into view. I slapped my hand over my mouth and watched him closely. He was fiddling with a large safe in one corner of the room. When he stepped back, he came away with a large titanium case and placed it squarely on the table before him. I could not believe my lucky stars at the vantage point that chance had gifted me. I watched him unlatch the case and pull out a curious object. It wasn't very large, but it took some effort from his old bones to hold it aloft. It was beautiful. Radiant. Blue at the core.

I had found it. I had found the hypercube. I had let it slip out of my hands once, but I had found it. I had found it_ for him_. I paused. Loki wasn't even here and yet he was all I could think about. I cursed myself internally and watched the old man's movements. Just then, there was a sharp hiss and the wall a few meters from me opened up. I watched in fright and interest as a human figure slid through, landing neatly on his feet. He dusted his suit briskly and straightened his name-tag. From what I could read, it said 'Coulson'. I watched him move along the tables until he was level with my eyes, standing beside the old man and the case.

"How's it going, Selvig?"

The old man shook his head, "We can't afford to keep it here much longer. It could be dangerous."

"The new facility's still under construction."

"I know, I know, but I can't afford another month for the safe zone. The Tesseract can't stay here, Coulson."

I wondered if Loki was telepathic. I had the greatest need to let him know where I was and what was unfolding. If he was too late, he would miss his chance and there would still be disgruntled aliens in my backyard and a prince with a wounded heart plaguing my mind. I decided it was more for my own sake than anybody else's that I was here spying on Loki's prize. _Sure, honey, you keep telling yourself that_.

The man named Coulson muttered something to the other. They discussed something at length and Selvig began to replace the cube in its case and then the safe.

"Well," Selvig sighed. "Maybe you should come up and talked to Agent Romanoff. She's been meaning to address the issue of-" their voices trailed away as I heard them leave. A hiss followed by another hiss, two sliding glass doors. And then silence. The lights went out after that.

_Just as well. Don't want anybody catching you here._

I fiddled around my pockets for my keys. There was a cheap cereal-prize torch on the key ring. I pressed the button on its flat exterior and a feeble green light filled a corner of the room. It was the strangest place I had ever been to. I held the light up to a board on which a number of maps and plans had been tacked up. Something caught my eye. It was a photograph, a hazy one, but sufficiently distinct, accompanied by a series of reports and graphs. I studied the photo a long while; there was something unsettlingly familiar about it - the regal face, the blonde hair, the tough armour and red cape.

My eyes fell upon the description beneath it. _Thor_.

The second time around was just as unbelievable. Loki was no longer an abstract idea, a cross-hatch sketch on an old yellow page. He was very real. But Thor was a photograph, attached with some vague possibility. I wondered just how many Norse gods were flying around the area. I stared at the photograph with mounting resentment. Here was the root of all of Loki's troubles.

I heard footsteps coming down and quickly made a dash for my hiding place. Peering out of the gap in the wood, I saw two young men in black suits come into the lab. One carried a box and the other a tablet device through which he was scrolling diligently.

"All I'm saying is, he could definitely take Stark." The one with the box said stubbornly.

"Aaron, come on man," the other rolled his eyes. "Sure he's got a mean swing and guns the size of baby dolphins, but the guy isn't exactly mortal."

"I call bullshit on that."

"No, check this out," the second one thrust the tablet under his companion's nose, "read that."

A moment of silence while the first man scanned the tablet. He muttered something and turned around, "You'd better stop messing around with Coulson's stuff."

The second set the tablet down next to the box and they went out the door, still arguing.

The minute their voiced disappeared, the lights went out again.

More out of curiosity than anything else, I snuck over to the new items and perused through them. The box contained sheafs and sheafs of papers with diagrams and figures that made no sense to me. The tablet, still open and glowing, had across it the words: **"How to kill a Norse God."**


End file.
